


our house is crumbling under me

by buries



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Missing Scene, Past Finn Collins/Raven Reyes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-10 03:26:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4375376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buries/pseuds/buries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>bellamy thinks it's about time she let someone else fight for her for a change.</i> or the one where bellamy and raven look out for one another. au on 2.09</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. when you call me i'll be right down

**Author's Note:**

> this is an au on 2.09, inspired by _if they want you, they're gonna have to fight me._ it does not go past 2.10.
> 
> i apologise to raos because me being ooc and writing fic killed him. you'll be missed, dear friend, etc etc. but ... i haven't written fic in like three years, so the fact i've written something is beyond cool! to the braven fandom for being so damn welcoming. dedicated to ellie, for i will have 300k of braven on your desk sometime in the next millennia, dumbass. ♥
> 
> i've made [a mix](http://8tracks.com/buries/crumbling) for this.
> 
> unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine. title's from lights' _don't go home without me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is an au on 2.09 and i may probably turn it into something because i think this entire scenario involving raven deserved some more closure — and no one can really deny the fact that bellamy looking out for raven deserves to be highlighted, too. i don't have much of a plan, but i'm interested in writing a canon divergence. we'll see how i go. 
> 
> unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine. chapter title is from lights' _don't go home without me._ ♥

If Bellamy could count on his fingers how many times a Grounder's tried to get one of their own killed, he'd need a few extra hands. It's a good thing he has Raven's in his.

He stays far away from the rest of the camp — the Sky People — as he focuses on her. His feet move toward her quickly without hesitation, his arms wrapping around her, trying to support her the best he can while not aggravating her cut skin. Raven slumps against him, but he can feel her try and pull herself together, as if she needs to posture being as brave and brazen, like this hasn't broken her. 

He leads her far away from where Lexa commands in her language for the Grounders to free Gustus once he's gone slack against the tree. He doesn't think she needs to see it, what could've been her if they hadn't been so lucky. Her good leg tries to keep up with his strides, doing the job of two, but Bellamy almost lifts her up with the help of Octavia on her other side, pulling her arm over her shoulders to keep her steady and her weight off her bad leg. Raven fights them, her fingers curling into his shoulder sharply, but Bellamy thinks it's about time she let someone else fight for her for a change.

"Over here," he says, cocking his head and directing them to the left. It's on the outskirts of Tondc, further away from the commotion of the Grounders and Sky People making amends, apologising and ensuring all's forgiven for the sake of a goddamn alliance Bellamy doubts is as strong as Clarke wants to believe it to be. 

Carefully, they lower Raven to the ground, coming to sit with her. She's quiet. The earth's damp, but Bellamy doubts she can even feel it. 

Octavia drops to her knees, her hands on Raven's arm. She's careful to not touch her where the blood blossoms and stains her shirt. Leaning toward her, O's voice is breathless, determined and as strong as his little sister has always been, "You're going to be okay. Trust me."

There's a snapping of twigs and a crunch of leaves on the ground. Octavia looks up quickly, ready to strike, as if they're not on some neutral territory. Her features soften, unguarded within a second, and when Bellamy turns to look at the person responsible for the noise, it's Lincoln.

Octavia looks toward Raven before her eyes flicker to him. Sensing her gaze, he turns to her, nodding. "Go. We're going to be okay."

Raven scoffs, shaking her head. Her expression is one that's torn between being on the verge of tears or gritting her teeth and shattering them in anger.

Octavia's hand glides up her arm to her shoulder, squeezing it, before she stands to walk toward Lincoln. He lingers, his gaze on her, before Octavia's arm reaches out to turn him around and lead them toward where the rest of their people gather around the Grounders. 

Rather than look at Raven, he keeps his eyes on the back of Octavia. Once she disappears, he keeps his head looking in that direction, giving Raven as much privacy as one can within the open. She sits on her ass, pulling her legs toward her chest with a wince. One arm wraps around her leg, fingers gripping her knee tightly; from the corner of his eye, he can see her knuckles are white.

"What do you think they're saying?" she says, voice pained. He doesn't glance at her when she inhales sharply, shifting beside him until she stills, as comfortable as she can be on dirt. "Should've shoved that sword right through my heart instead of wasting time."

"Or maybe they're saying you should've been the one to deliver the final blow."

Raven laughs, but it isn't as bright as it used to be. He doesn't feel the sun warm the side of his face where he can feel her staring at him.

Still, he doesn't look at her. Once he grows bored of watching the backs of Grounders he doesn't recognise, committing to memory the way they stand — legs wide apart, shoulders pulled back, their hands never fiddling with their shit or their fingers — he looks to the ground instead, as if he can study it and figure out where her footprints cease and become his own.

He sees another pair of legs in his vision, long and dirtied by mud and grime. Bellamy doesn't say a word, almost welcoming her to approach them.

It's as if she can feel Clarke's footsteps reverberate beneath her. She's quick to look at her, gaze so sharp and deadly he thinks Clarke would turn to stone. But she doesn't. Raven doesn't have snakes for hair, even if it looks a little matted, twisting and winding, like a serpent's body. She barely moves her teeth when she bites, "I don't want her touching me."

As if she can hear her, Clarke stops and the world beneath them ceases shaking. He'd thought maybe it had been in fear — Clarke's, maybe, of what Raven will do to her, possibly something harsher than a punch — but he's starting to realise it hadn't been coming from Clarke. 

It's a familiar quiver in the earth. He's felt it before, the trembling shaking beneath his own feet as he had stomped his boots and commanded chaos to overtake the camp once the drop ship had smashed into the earth far away from their chosen destination. It's anger — the kind that moves mountains and razes the world like a nuclear apocalypse.

At first he doesn't realise it, but he feels her fingers grip the fabric of his jacket so tightly she almost tears it and reaches skin to shred. Raven leans into him as if he's a shield for her, or maybe a sword, even though Bellamy doubts she'd need another to be the blade she wields against a foe when she's all metal and sharpness and red, hot seething anger of the fires that forge such weapons. He lifts his hand to cover hers, thinking she'll read it as a request she stop making him uncomfortable with her grip when he feels like the protector he had been on the Ark before everything had gone to Hades.

Clarke may stop, but her mouth opens. He thinks maybe she's lost for words, but her voice cracks, "Raven. I'm —"

Bellamy looks to Clarke, but lets his gaze drop to her arms instead. He isn't comfortable being the mouthpiece for a girl mouthier than anyone he's ever met, but with the way Raven grips his sleeve and even tries to weave her fingers between the gaps of his own, he thinks maybe she needs a voice instead. Clarke can't read body language as well as she can science and broken bones. His voice sounds too kind and uncertain to his own ears, "You should probably leave."

He lifts his gaze to see Clarke's face fall, her feet take one tiny step back no one else would notice but him. He's been studying Clarke ever since they dropped on this radiation-soaked earth, identifying her as an enemy before she'd shifted into a friend. She may think him to be sweet, the guy who'll always have her back, but Bellamy knows how to cut Clarke down from the horse she sits upon now, and a part of him thinks to raise his blade to do so, reverting back to his old self to have her see the damage she's destined to inflict upon _her_ people if she isn't to tread carefully anymore.

She stands there, stock-still, shocked, he thinks, before she presses her lips together, inhales deeply through her nose, and nods. Before she leaves, she says, "I'm sorry." And nods again, as if that'll sell it to Raven, her compassion, her sincerity, her remorse for something he thinks her to have been too prepared to do for the sake of building a glass bridge a stone could shatter if Jasper Jordan was to toss it over his shoulder. But Jasper isn't here to shatter anything.

Clarke walks away, but Raven continues to grip his shoulder hard. She sounds closer to him when she laughs, short and sharp, and shakes her head. As he watches Clarke walk away, throwing a glance over her shoulder as if it's taking all her willpower to not return and try and fix what she's broken with some careful suturing, he can feel Raven's nails gliding against his fingers. "I'm starting to wonder if she understands it. What that word means. What it's _meant_ to mean."

"I'm sure she does," Bellamy says, tone more absent than he'd like. The problem is, he isn't so sure if he even believes his own words. With the way she'd been too content to let Raven take the fall for a crime he knew she hadn't committed had his hackles raised. But Bellamy doesn't want to bitch Clarke out, taking the focus away from Raven once more. It doesn't help, not focusing on her — she lost Finn, a boy he doesn't really understand the significance of when it comes to her, but he knows loss just like the rest of them do. His lost limb is still regrowing since Aurora had been floated. 

He looks at Raven then. "You should've let her take a look."

Her tone remains biting, as if she's speaking to someone who won't listen, "I don't want her touching me." She stares at him hard enough to lift his gaze from the ground. "If you want to help me, keep me far away from her." She turns to look at where they'd come from, the crowd remaining thick, if broken into clumps of people off to the side speaking since Gustus had been freed from the tree _alive_ instead of dead. It doesn't appear like a funeral, as if these Grounders even know how to grieve. "And them. If that Commander Bitch comes anywhere near me, I'll show her how strong I am."

Bellamy nods, unable to think of anything to say that'll comfort her, incapable of thinking of anything to say to _contradict_ her. He thinks to correct her, though, informing her that she'd shown Lexa just how tenacious she is. But he doesn't, instead opting to say, "I should get Abby."

Raven shakes her head. "No," she says, drawing in a breath. "I'm fine."

He sighs. He can feel her bristle beside him, as if she's taking his sigh as some sign of his aggravation at her. He's aggravated, but it isn't _at_ her he finds himself tense and ready to snap. 

Rather than snapping at her as he feels like it, getting rid of that excess energy and anger that's been stirring inside of him, waiting for him to elbow a Grounder and raze Tondc, he sighs. He doubts he needs to remind her, but he does, brows raised and voice quieter, "You were cut by a knife in several places, Raven. You're not fine."

If she wishes to deny it, she can try, but Bellamy doesn't doubt the Grounders try and slice as deep as they can in order to make the punishment of a thousand cuts sting even in the afterlife. He's not so sure if he believes in that, if there's something after all this living, as he doubts the afterlife can be any greater than the hell this earth has proven itself to be.

She presses her lips together, aggravated, or struggling with a taste that she isn't so sure is sweet or sour. "Don't leave me." It's as if she has to force it out between her teeth that she quietly says, "Please."

He opens his mouth, as if to say _I'm not_ , but he closes it. He figures he is, with how he seems eager to push her into the hands of another. It's not true — Raven's not his responsibility, but she isn't a burden he wants to rid his shoulders the weight of, either. 

He looks away from her, then over toward where he can see the back of Grounders shielding Kane and Abby from his sight. "Just let her take a look, okay." Bellamy turns his gaze back to her. His brows rise to challenge her, as if he knows her silence is her own refusal to listen to him. 

He figures he's right with how she rolls her eyes. "Fine," she grits out. Abby's not the enemy, but he supposes Raven's pride is.

They remain silent for a few moments, for a length of time that feels like an age. A Grounder looks over toward them, a woman with the charcoal warpaint smeared over her eyes. He doesn't recognise her, unable to put a name to the face, but he guesses that's how it is with a good lot of them. Clarke might want to try and sleep on their side of the camp to show them she trusts them, but none of them have thought to return the favour. With blonde hair covering the expanse of her back with intricate braids, he can feel the sharpness of her icy gaze try and chill him — or cut him a thousand times. He bristles, but doesn't look away from her.

She does, eventually, when a man, thick shouldered and taller, face clean save for the Grounder makeup, taps her on the shoulder.

Raven peers at him, leaning forward in an attempt to capture his gaze. "What was that about?"

Bellamy doesn't look at her, keeping his gaze on the Grounders. "Don't know."

He can see her from the corner of his eye look from him to where he's staring, then back to him. Her brows knit, just like his do, as if she's trying to figure out how best to blow them up, what powder to use, what liquid she can get her hands on.

He's just trying his best not to pick up his rifle and shoot them.

Returning his gaze to her, he looks down at her abdomen to the red seeping through her light blue shirt. "You're going to be okay."

The corner of her lips quirks up as she lets out a breathy laugh, quick and short, but not as sharp as it had been before. "Keep telling yourself that, shooter."

He finds the corner of his own lips quirk upward to the sound of footsteps on the ground. Raven turns before he does, her body tensing to only relax at the sight of Abby. 

He feels Raven release his arm, having forgotten she was even latching onto him as if he was some sort of lifeline for her. Abby's footsteps slow before she kneels before them, one knee on the ground, as she looks to Raven, only sparing him a quick glance. She smiles kindly, her voice warm and motherly, "We need to take a good look at you, Raven."

Raven closes her eyes briefly before she nods. Throwing an arm around Bellamy's shoulders, he helps lift her up, supporting her left side as Abby moves to her right. "I'm okay," Raven says, smiling as if she's slightly exasperated by how everyone seems to flank to her sides, literally sticking themselves beneath her arms.

"Let us take care of you for once, Raven," Abby says. Her arm's around her waist, Bellamy's on her hip. "Come on," she cocks her head to the side, her eyes shifting over toward where the Grounders linger. Clarke loiters there, standing near Kane, engaged in conversation he doubts will really go anywhere. He feels uneasy, thinking they'll walk through the crowd, right by the tree that had left Raven at the mercy of Lexa and Indra.

Rather than remain limp within their arms, Raven lifts her hand and grabs onto his fingers, as if she's the one hanging off the edge of a cliff. He supposes she is, hanging onto the odd branch for dear life as the Grounders have pushed her over in the hope she'd be broken bone on the ground below. He doesn't get why she grips his fingers as though she wants to rip them from the sockets. He ducks his head slightly, brows knitted together, to which she briefly looks at him before letting her gaze drop onto the ground before she peers up once more, gritting her teeth as she accidentally twists her body and aggravates the cuts on her abdomen. 

As if sensing where his own mind as gone, what's summoned Raven's parted lips and unease as she tries to fight it from overtaking her body, Abby looks to them and softens her voice, "We'll go around them."


	2. i will sing it to remind you that i'm old beside you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _we can all use someone to look out for us right about now._ or the one where we could all use someone to tell us a greek story when we're being seen by the ark doctor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know what makes me sad? that there's all these great moments between bellamy and raven in season two, yet we never got to experience them growing to trust one another like we did with bellamy and clarke. so, i'm hoping to show that with this, since i think 2.09 is so pivotal for raven reyes and bellamy and octavia being #teamraven during the entirety of it shows us who they are at their core. i've ended up expanding on this to get some closure for myself when it comes to this crucial turning point for the sky people and how the narrative chose to shove raven to the side when _she_ should've been the one to receive any token of finn's to make herself feel better. i guess she gets something better, instead — a friend.
> 
> i never intended to actually expand on this, because otherwise i would've structured the posting of it differently. since i'm not doing it in three parts like i usually do, i've chosen to structure this to be like ascending a staircase. some of these "chapters" happen on the same day, but i want to show how each moment is pivotal to the relationship of bellamy and raven and them as individuals and their place in the sky people camp (and to build the story). also i apologise for maybe making abby griffin appear slightly likeable, since apparently she isn't the best adult around. but i like the potential of her relationship with raven and thought to showcase it how i'd love to see it grow.
> 
> i'll stop talking about how annoyed i am by this arc and get onto the more important part.
> 
> this fic will be set in 2.09, but will not au the events from 2.10 and the episodes that follow. if my outline is to remain true by the end of this, this is to have 8 or 9 parts to it.
> 
> thanks so much for reading and commenting! again, this is unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine, and the chapter title is from lights' _don't go home without me_. ♥

It's a good thing the Grounders hadn't thought to cut her deeply. He doubts it'd really matter, in the scheme of things, but it'd still suck if they'd chosen to slice in so deep they hit bone.

Clarke lingers by the door, watching Abby wipe a piece of cloth over Raven's wounds. The feasting table's still laid out with food on it. Even though Raven's taken a bite out of an apple, declaring it not to be poisoned at all, she's followed Abby's lead and sets up shop on it. He sits on the edge just as Abby does, Raven lying between them as he rests his feet on the bench and looks at his hands.

All Abby's doing is smearing blood all over her abdomen, but he guesses that's good, too. Being a janitor taught him that if the spill slips and slides along the floor, it's a good thing — even if it means it makes more of a mess. It can be cleaned up, since it's not dried and sticking to the ground like some reminder. It won't scar, Abby says, over and over, but Raven doesn't respond to her after she says it the first two times. He doesn't realise it until later that she'd been saying it to him.

"They're getting the funeral pyre ready," Clarke says from the doorway. She's shrouded in darkness, if he's to look up at her. He does once, but he keeps his gaze on Raven, lying flat against the table. He sits on the edge of it by her head. "They're going to say goodbye to Gustus."

"Hope he burns in hell," Raven bites out, wincing against the sting of alcohol seeping into her cuts. Bellamy's brows knit as he watches Abby treat her delicately, as if she's afraid her hands will tear her apart. "Son of a bitch."

Bellamy looks up at Clarke, noticing how her expression is pinched. She leans against the doorframe in a manner that looks like she's swaying, uncertain if she wants to ground herself there or if she wants to move toward them. He knows she wants to help, hold Raven's hand or give her mother a break, but Raven's so much as laced the threshold of the feasting hall with poison that Clarke will begin to choke if she thinks to step one foot inside.

He shakes his head. "I'm not coming."

Clarke swallows, looking down then. "Okay," she mutters, but he thinks her resignation isn't because of him. It's being unable to fix what she's broken that makes it such a pungent scent he wonders if it'll stick to his skin like the dirt and grime of living on this damn earth has. 

She looks up, her eyes remaining on him, before they flicker over toward Raven. Raven doesn't notice Clarke looking, wincing as she grits her teeth and looks up at the ceiling — or at him. Clarke nods and turns to leave, her steps slow, echoing within the inside chambers of Tondc. He hadn't noticed how it _echoes_ in here until everyone had vacated it, leaving it to be as hollow as he thinks this alliance to be.

"You should go," Raven's voice sounds strained. Abby's not even touching her, keeping her hands away from her with the bloodied rag. Bellamy thinks to offer tearing a piece of his shirt, but he knows Raven would refuse, and following her cue, Abby will pretend like the dark colour of the fabric means she can't see if she's cleaning her cuts properly. "Be the Princess' knight in shining whatever the hell you wear."

When he looks down at her, he notices she's looking up at him, her brows raised challengingly.

"I'm no one's knight," he says. He shifts on the table, leaning away from her. Raven begins to lift herself onto her elbows and twist her body, mouth open to probably protest him even moving, but all he does is pull himself on the table, legs folded underneath him. He moves toward her, taking advantage of her sitting up slightly, to shuffle closer to her.

Her lips spread into a wide smile. "Oh, I see," she says. Her voice has a croak to it, like she's had a noose wrapped tightly around it. "You want to be mine, huh. Never thought I'd see the day a janitor —"

"I'm cleaning up a mess," he says. Peering down at her pointedly, he raises his brows, mimicking her own expression. Bellamy rolls his eyes, lips curving upward despite his attempt to feign exasperation the best he can. "You're a mess."

Raven opens her mouth, but instead of bitching him out, she closes it with a smile. He thinks it can be one of pride, as if she regards herself being as messy as her work tent is something to preen beneath. If he wants to misinterpret it, he'd think it'd be one that a girl would wear if she was blushing. But Raven looks a little too pale to be considered a blushing princess, or a damsel in distress, even if she looks like she's gone to hell and back with how she's cut up and bloodied from the last few days.

He expects her to be stubborn, to remain on her elbows as they dig into the wood of the table and eventually cut at the skin of the bone. Looking up at Abby, he removes the smile from his face and the challenging arch to his brows as she looks at him somewhat knowingly. It reminds him of Aurora when she'd catch him and O looking through the papers she'd written of what she could remember of the stories of the Greeks. He remembers how the poems of Hades and Persephone had been O's favourites, wanting to believe that, one day, Persephone would refuse to resurface when the summer called for her to linger in her garden with her mother.

But his gaze is drawn back down to his lap when he feels Raven rest her head against his lower leg. She's looking at Abby, shifting her body upward so she can use him as a pillow. Tilting her head back, she looks up at him, "This doesn't mean anything."

Bellamy rolls his eyes.

Abby grins, pouring the alcohol onto the damp and bloodied rag. "I think it means something," she says. She doesn't look at Raven when she whips her head around to her, eyes narrowed, brows knitted, as if she's trying to decipher her speaking Mom. Bellamy isn't so sure if he gets what Abby's talking about, either. Abby looks at Raven, her eyes flicking up to him before setting on her. "It means you're not alone," she says. The smile doesn't remain on her face to paint it as if it's something it isn't, but he can hear the warmth in her voice, a layer of surprise in it as she peers up at him. 

Bellamy watches her, witnessing her expression fall. Abby Griffin is sometimes so subtle he thinks those around her miss her tells, but he's seen it before. Aurora postured as an abrasive and strong woman, untouched by the hand life had given her, but he'd seen her wilt in their own home. Abby's shoulders may not be hunched like his mother's had been when she didn't think he was looking, but he recognises the expression she wears like Hades' helm. Her lips curve downward and her eyes seem determined to focus on anything but either of them. 

Abby looks to the rag once more, leaving it in her hand to allow it become soaked in the alcohol as she places the large bottle on the table beside her. Picking up where she left off, she clarifies, "That's a good thing. We can all use someone to look out for us right about now."

He watches as she looks to the doorframe Clarke's vacated, a familiar longing in her gaze, before she pulls herself together with a purse of her lips and her shoulders pushed back. "This is going to sting," she says as she looks at Raven.

He looks away, not frightened by blood or Abby pressing alcohol into open wounds, but to memorise the shadows and the way the hall looks, just in case he needs it for later. The Grounders are weird with how they seem so reverent of the locations that seem to be charred on the inside as they are on the outside, but he supposes even they've been forced to find beauty in rubble. 

Raven groans, "Tell me something I don't know." He feels her shoulder jerk against him.

Bellamy doesn't know what possesses him to do it. Maybe it's the rock interior of the hall, or maybe it's him simply thinking about Mom, but he finds his mouth opening and words trickling out that belong to Octavia and Octavia alone. "You know, this princess was once chained to a rock in the middle of the sea. She was meant to be sacrificed to please the sea monster, Cetus, because her mother, Queen Cassiopeia, decided to boast that her daughter was more beautiful than the Nereids."

He turns his gaze back to Abby, noticing her staring at him. He knows he looks startled, like a two-headed deer caught in the middle of grazing by a predator, but he isn't frightened by her as he should be. He doesn't know if she sees something in his expression that causes her to nod, but she does, and she presses the cloth against the wound against Raven's abdomen, just above her left leg. 

Raven inhales sharply, eyes closing for a mere moment. He doesn't think she's paying attention, but he hears her pained voice, "What the hell's a Nereid?" 

"They're sea nymphs, the daughters of the sea god Nereus." He can see her from the corner of his eye, looking up at him. Bellamy refuses to look at her, watching Abby wipe the cloth over Raven's wound, smearing blood along her torso before trying to clean that up. "Poseidon's the god of the sea. He's the one at the top of the food chain, the sea god to rule over every other sea god. He was rightfully pissed about it, so he decided to punish Cassiopeia's people instead."

Raven breathes out, "Dick."

He tries not to smile. "King Cepheus, Andromeda's father, sought out a way to save his kingdom. Poseidon set the monster to devour the city, but Cepheus chose to sacrifice his daughter. Andromeda was stripped and chained to a rock out in the middle of the sea as a sacrifice to Cetus."

Raven hisses, drawing in her bottom lip between her teeth as Abby presses the wet cloth against her wound. He imagines she's trying to disinfect it the best she can, that maybe his own story is getting lost in the sting of it. But he feels Raven throw her arm back toward him, tapping his knee with the back of her hand. "What happened?"

Her hand goes slack against his leg as he looks down at her instead of watching Abby clean one of her many wounds. "The hero Perseus saved her. He killed Cetus while wearing Hades' helm, which made him invisible. He freed her from the rock and married her."

Raven's brows knit together. "Who the hell is Hades?"

Bellamy laughs, shaking his head. "The god of the dead."

If she's currently lost in his attempt to weave a story together for her, she doesn't show it. If she's trying to figure out why he's treating her as if she's being operated on without anesthesia, he doesn't have an answer for her. Alcohol on an open cut stings like a bitch, but she's not screaming while attempting not to writhe with a scalpel deep in her lower back. 

Her brows knit, but that's as far as she goes with showing any signs of confusion — if it's confusion at all. "Did Andromeda get a say?" She tilts her head to look along the length of herself, watching Abby wipe the rag over the cuts on her abdomen as blood seems to pool around it once more with her shifting. 

"Probably," he says. He lifts his shoulders in a shrug when she tilts her head back into the makeshift pillow of his lower legs. "I guess so."

She arches a brow. "A princess gets sacrificed to a sea monster for her mother boasting about her beauty and you don't know if she gets a say in the guy she gets to marry?"

Bellamy laughs softly, "I never said the story was perfect."

She looks at him pointedly from her position on his legs. Even though he's hovering over her, it feels like she's the one casting her shadow over him instead with how pointed her look is. "You never said you _knew_ any stories," she says. Raven tilts her chin down to look at Abby. "Did you think he knew any stories?"

Abby grins, her gaze flicking from him to Raven. "People can surprise you, Raven." And Bellamy thinks, maybe, Abby's trying to soften Raven's own anger toward Clarke. But it doesn't feel right within the moment. She can be a mother and a leader and a doctor, but he doubts Abby likes to let her love for Clarke, her desire to protect her and guide her, bleed in with the roles she plays to the Sky People. Or Raven. What lingers between them is something more than his relationship with Kane. Abby smiles, "That's life. Keeping you on your toes."

"Or chaining you to rocks to sacrifice you for something you never did," Raven says, her voice lighter, devoid of its sharpness he thinks she'd inject into it if the other Griffin was in the room. Abby may be Clarke's mother, the woman who will always stand beside her and support her, but Bellamy sometimes thinks she's one to Raven, too. 

"I'll have to look at your arms now," Abby says, voice warm, rather than cold and detached like he'd always thought she'd be. Sometimes he wonders if his mother had been wrong about her, believing Abby Griffin never would've helped her with prenatal care or even delivering Octavia. Sometimes, Bellamy thinks Aurora was so guarded not even a sea monster had any hopes of devouring her, even though he thinks one did, in the end.

Raven sighs. She leans forward, pulling herself up to sit awkwardly. He thinks the movement aggravates her abdomen wounds as Abby presses the cloth against them to wipe away the blood. "It'll stop," Abby says, folding the cloth to wipe it over where her wound splits open once more. "Just give it time. If it continues to bleed, I'll stitch it once we return to camp."

He knows Raven hears her, even if her nod gets lost in her fingers hooking into the hem of her shirt. With her back no longer supported against the wood of the table, she begins to pull it over her head. She doesn't get very far, and it's instinct that Bellamy grips the back of it, helping her pull it over her shoulders and her head. 

Rather than press it against her chest, she drops it into his lap, possibly aiming for his legs. He doubts bone is as comfortable to rest her head against as it is to try and cut skin to reach.

She wears a black bra, it stained with her blood, but Raven doesn't seem to care. Even though it isn't necessary, she lies her head back into his lap, her shirt now a proper pillow to soften the hardness of his legs. He wonders if she feels queasy, but he doubts it, not with the way she'd tried to fight him and Abby when they'd been leading her around the group and down the stairs to the feasting hall. It's not the most sanitary place, but it's better than the outside where there's critters and mud and observers who'd come to congregate around them.

She holds out her arm to Abby, wincing the moment she wipes the rag over the cut on her upper arm. "Think I could cut the bitch with the wire in this?" She looks up at him, like he's meant to know, but he knows she's only gazing at him since it's easier with how she seems to rest her neck against him, too. Abby laughs, shaking her head, as he watches her clean Raven's arm of blood and dirt. 

"You could try," Abby says, and he guesses that's as far as she'll go with condoning any acts of revenge. "But I wouldn't sacrifice a good bra for petty revenge, Raven."

She purses her lips, looking at Abby, "This shit is so uncomfortable at times." She shifts against him, as if she's trying to wiggle and have it be comfortable against her ribs. A part of him wonders if she'll go that one step further and unclasp it, but her arms don't reach behind her nor does she even try to pull it over her head or down her legs.

Bellamy knows he shouldn't be comfortable. He knows, maybe, Raven would do this at some other time to try and seduce him as she had in his tent. It feels like it happened an age ago, in a different life, at a different time, between two different people. But he doubts himself to be all that different to who he had been then, studying her face, waiting for her to break as she stood before him half-naked and determined to have her way. He hadn't so much as swayed toward her that night until she had tilted her head just a little higher, as though he was as dumb as she sometimes jokes him to be, and had stepped into him instead. 

He isn't daft. He's not Murphy, who'd make an inappropriate joke about her trying to seduce him. He's not Finn, looking away from her as if he hasn't seen her naked before. Maybe that reaction is better than any other, but Bellamy opts for not even acknowledging she's removed her shirt at all. He acts like this is an every day occurrence, like her stripping herself of bloodied clothing and baring a little more flesh than usual is something he sees all the time.

He can feel Abby look up at him, as if waiting for him to vacate the hall, as if he's some teenage boy incapable of controlling his hormones around a pretty half-naked girl. But he looks up at her and meets her stare to see her drop her eyes instead.

When he looks at her chest, it's to see her cuts, little scratches up the length of her. On her side, beneath the strap of her bra, he thinks he can see a dark bruise, but he doesn't reach out to touch it nor does he even think to speak of it, simply remembering it for later to make sure he's more careful if he's to act as her crutch she begrudgingly accepts. 

He shifts his gaze to study the slope of her nose. Belatedly, he thinks to say, "Try having your big head on your legs."

Raven's smile is small, but he sees it wilt as she peers down the length of her. Abby's own expression becomes guarded for a moment, her hands continuing to wipe at Raven's arm. "One day," Raven says, her voice sounding so determined. She looks at her legs as if she's going to will them into working again, into feeling how they did before Murphy had shot her because of him. "One day, I'm going to bitch about your head making my legs fall asleep, Bellamy." When he looks down, she's peering up at him. 

"I'm sure it'll be soon," he says, finding himself smiling, even if he thinks it to be forced. "I'm a bit clumsy."

"Over a goddamn cliffside," she rolls her eyes. Before he can even retort, correcting her, informing her it had been the _right_ thing to do, to pause in searching for Finn and helping their own by risking his own life, she barrels by him, as quick as she'd be on two good legs instead of writing herself off as a girl who can't even run with only one. "You're a big fat hero, Blake. Who knew a janitor could even be a knight?"

"Think you mean a stable boy."

She presses her lips together, shaking her head. "No, I mean the chamber pot cleaner." Peering up at him, she arches her brow, lips curving into a slow smile before she winces and hisses at the touch of fresh alcohol on her long cut. "I may not know the shit you're talking about most of the time when it comes to Andromeda and her shitty mother, but I know _that_. I used to read stories about princesses and princes."

"And I used to tell them," Abby smiles softly, peering up at her. She focuses once more on placing Raven's arm gently on the table before reaching for her other one. 

Raven winces once more when the alcohol seeps into her fresh wound, but she doesn't let it deter her from speaking. "But don't go throwing yourself off of cliffs so you can be between my legs again," she says, peering up at him. Bellamy doesn't want to look at Abby in this moment, but he can't feel her staring at him as he can believe her to be slightly amused. He stares down at Raven as she peers up at him, lips curved into a sly smile. "I'll remove the wire from my perfectly blood-soaked bra and cut your throat with it if you think about it."

Abby's laugh is soft and throaty, a mother amused by two children if he's to remember the sound at all. He tries not to, but it warms him, anyway, to hear it again, even if it's slightly haunting. When he looks to Abby, her hands are busy on Raven's arm, but she's looking at the two of them with a curve to her lips. "I'm pretty sure princesses were a little _nicer_ to their knights, Raven."

With a scoff, Raven looks to Abby with her brows furrowing. "Who the hell said I'd be a princess?" She drops her head back into his lap as she looks up at him. "I'm this one's knight in a shining spacesuit."

Pursing his lips, he nods, conceding to her, if only to see her mouth widen into a bright smile rather than turn downward. She may wince once more at Abby literally rubbing alcohol into her wounds, but she seems more upbeat against him than she had before, like this is all she needed, even if it's a temporary suture she's about to rip out when she feels like drowning beneath remembering her pain and refusing to let herself have a moment of respite.

"It might be a good idea if you washed your shirt," Abby says, pulling back from Raven's arm. She lets the cloth pool beside her, a pile of red and a dark, mossy green by her leg. Her hands remain in her lap as she peers at her, and Bellamy wonders if she's speaking to her as a doctor or a mother. "But I know you, and you won't. If you find yourself bleeding too much, you tell me straight away." 

Her gaze flicks up to him, her look pointed. In this moment, Bellamy realises that she thinks he's going to be the one to shadow Raven, even though he thinks Raven's big enough to be her own shadow at times.

Raven shakes her head. "No, it doesn't matter." With how long they've been on the ground, a bloodied shirt is better than having nothing to stave off the chill of some of the nights. Sometimes he thinks the adults don't get that, that the Ark had a closet with a few more options when it came to shirts when the ground offers nothing at all in terms of selection.

She begins to pull herself up, sitting in between them. She throws her legs over the edge of the table, but remains there, her head bowed before she looks to Abby. "I don't want to go out there," she says quietly.

Extending her arm, Abby curls her fingers around Raven's leg. "We'll stay in here until you're ready."

Raven nods her head, a small movement he wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been watching her unblinkingly. He unfolds his legs slowly, holding her shirt in his hands, before throwing them over the side of the table to rest his feet against the seat. "And they won't bother us," he says. "We may be in Grounder territory, but it's about time they show us we can trust them." And he thinks that can be established if Lexa's people leave them alone, even if they're inside their own political office. The people of the Ark don't owe them anything, but he figures if the alliance is to work, then they'll give them this small reprieve until the sun sets and the next day begins once more.

She looks to him, her gaze unreadable, before she turns to Abby once more. Her voice is quiet, "What if I'm never ready?"

Abby's hand remains on her leg, her bad one. He sees Raven look down belatedly, as if she hadn't sensed Abby's touch. But he doubts all the nerves are dead, just sensitive or out of reach for now — Raven may be all bravado at times, a loud voice that summons a pounding to his temples on the rare occasion when she's too annoying for him to stand to be near, but she hadn't kicked her leg away from her or even flinched from her reaching out to touch a leg she deems to be dead and useless. 

He thinks, maybe, Raven lets her touch her bad leg as a sign of trust, like Abby will somehow figure out a way to return feeling to her leg. Or maybe she's just so damn tired she doesn't want to push away the one person who has every reason to side with a girl who Bellamy thinks is making all the wrong decisions for good reasons.

Bellamy doesn't get it, but it doesn't matter to him if he does — it's important Raven sees herself flanked on either side in her moment of weakness. There's a sea monster outside the feasting hall that wants to devour her, but Perseus doesn't come to save her when he knows she can save herself. But it doesn't mean he can't lend her moral support as she breaks from her own chains.


	3. it's amazing that you're here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _he's not her hero, either, but he thinks, maybe, he's her friend._ or the one where raven realises bellamy blake didn't hesitate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just want to thank everyone for their support! it's been so unexpected but an absolute joy to talk to people about the characters and even what happens in this fic, so thank you so much. i'm glad you're all enjoying it! 
> 
> i know there may be some facts wrong or i may have forgotten a character did x to this person, but this is meant to focus on raven and bellamy as separate people and as a cohesive unit, so let just say those moments don't really matter right now for them. (and i'm terrible and can't remember much!) i'm hoping to update this every two days, so thanks for sticking around!
> 
> as always, this is unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine. chapter title is, as always, from lights' _don't go home without me._ ♥

Bellamy can sometimes look at the sun and know what time of day it is. In Tondc, in the dining room where the only sun is filtered through the makeshift windows, he can't tell what hour it is. 

Maybe time works differently in Tondc, running on a Grounder clock, one that neither of them really understand. Maybe he's lost his knack for telling the time without a watch around his wrist. He used to be able to tell Octavia when the moon would be at its fullest when Earth hadn't been pulverised by its own inhabitants, but most of that had been guesswork and him creating a fantasy world for the girl who never expected to see the moon in her life. 

He used to be able to tell the time on the Ark by which guard was posted where, by where his mother had wandered off to, and when he'd hear loud footsteps stomping outside their very door. He'd never looked at his wrist to tell a freckle past a hair, even if it had been his answer to Octavia whenever she asked what the time happened to be. Instead, he'd relied on sound and instinct, informing her it was time for the girl beneath the floor to resurface and play a game of cards with him as he knew Mom's friends wouldn't bother coming around to their place if she stayed out for more than two hours.

Aurora's been gone for more than two hours, but he's forgotten to count the minutes since he wrapped Raven's arm around his shoulder and helped her limp into the feasting hall of Tondc.

He can't imagine what they'd be doing at this point of time back at camp, the one that they've destroyed and since abandoned, and he can't tell Raven if he thinks maybe the mourning of Gustus is over.

He sits on the edge of the table beside her, sometimes thinking he hasn't moved at all. He isn't even sure if time _has_ moved since Abby left to see Clarke. She may linger in Raven's peripherals and throw her arm over her shoulder to support her when she needs it, but Abby, regardless of how much she wants to be, isn't Raven's mother.

He's not her hero, either, but he thinks, maybe, he's her friend.

Raven's looking up at the ceiling, swinging her good leg back and forth. She's since pulled her shirt back over her head. If he's to look at her from the corner of his eye, he can see the blood stains on her sides and sleeves. She doesn't act like it bothers her. He doubts her shirt is even damp anymore. 

She doesn't move. He thinks she's counting the outline of stones or cracks or something on the ceiling. "How long do you think it takes for a Grounder to mourn the loss of their own?" she says, voice echoing in the empty room.

Bellamy shrugs his shoulder. "Don't know."

"Do you think they care?" She doesn't stop looking up at the ceiling, as if the cracks in the stone are stars telling her their stories. He keeps his gaze on the ground, wondering if the stones can tell him of the way the Grounders walk, live, and breathe. This is their place. Their feet should've left prints or charred marks on the floor, but all he can see is dust and dirt and some leaves and wet stains lingering in shallow pools of spilt wine and water.

He doesn't answer her, knowing she possesses the answer she wants in her hands.

She lets the silence linger between them for a moment, swinging her leg back and forth five times before she stills it against the bench. 

"They care," she says. Her gaze doesn't move from the ceiling. "They care so much they're willing to make an alliance with their killers. I don't get that."

"Me neither," he says softly, his own voice sounding rough to his ears. He keeps his gaze on the floor as she looks up at the ceiling, in search of a constellation she won't find when she's buried in the pits of hell.

"Does it suck that I want to know who the hell Gustus is?" She shakes her head, as if she's disgusted with herself. "Do you think they even care about who Finn was?"

Bellamy doesn't answer.

"Probably not," she continues. The stories he learned as a kid can't help her now, even though he thinks about them all, from Icarus to Athena to Perseus and Theseus. He wonders if she wants him to be Ariadne in this moment, giving her a ball of yarn to help her navigate the labyrinth she walks in. 

Octavia used to look at him like he had all the answers. Sometimes he thinks he misses it, sometimes he thinks she still does.  
 When he looks down at his hands, all he sees are his lifelines. There's nothing held between his fingers, but sometimes he can see the stain of blood remain in the cracking of his hands. Regardless of whether or not Raven expects him to have the string, he trails behind her, anyway. 

His ball of string keeps him mute. He supposes that's what she needs. Her voice sounds faraway, like she's on a planet away from him herself rather than sitting right beside him he can almost feel her shift with restlessness and anger. "He shared his rations with me on the Ark. He gave a shit about me when no one else did." 

She shakes her head. "He wasn't the space walker." Bellamy removes his gaze from the floor to look at her. She doesn't look at him, or even acknowledge him with a tilt of her head, but he supposes she is in her own way, what with how she speaks to him when she'd remained silent since she had lost her voice screaming for Finn. "For my eighteenth birthday, he let me walk in space for the first time in my life. I was the one who lost the air. I was the one who made the breach. But because he was younger, he took the fall. _I'm_ Spacewalker."

Raven looks at him and he notices how her eyes glisten. Pressing her lips together, she lets them part, inhaling shakily and audibly. He doesn't drop his gaze despite wanting to. Her brows knit together just as her stern and controlled features crumble, her voice cracking and lowering in tone, "Should I have taken the fall for him?"

Bellamy looks down at her hands, noticing how they grip at the edge of the table. Still, there's no string near his fingers, nor even on the floor, as if he's dropped it. She wants him to give her an answer he doesn't think he has, but he can feel something press heavily against the backs of his hands anyway. 

Her knuckles are white where his aren't. He thinks, if she could, she'd break the wood in half, let a splinter lodge itself into her hand, and refuse to tell anyone so she'd never have it removed. Self-inflicted pain is a hell of a lot more torturous than a thousand cuts given by a Grounder. 

Looking up at her, his own voice is quiet as he shakes his head, "No."

Her features remain crumbled as she looks down at his hip, or somewhere near it, maybe searching for her constellation there. "I feel like I should have. I should've protected him like he did me."

She looks down at her lap, sniffing. Releasing her hands from the table, she grips her pant legs instead. Looking at her from the corner of his eye, he sees how she picks at the fabric, like it's her skin. Her nails aren't long enough to slice into her flesh — and Bellamy's kind of grateful for it. 

"Sometimes you have to let the people you love make mistakes," he says. He looks at the wall, talking to it instead of her. He doesn't have the answers. He's found that since Octavia, he's never had them, even though he's held his hands out for a tiny morsel of it ever since she had been born. Why was having a second child so damn horrible? Why did his mother have to pay for giving life with her own? 

He wonders why he hadn't been the one floated, but he knows his answer as he's followed the string and it's lead him to the same destination over and over, regardless of how he tries to unpack the law and destroy it within his hands — he hadn't been the one to break the law first. Following in the footsteps of Aurora Blake, he'd kept her secret, an accomplice in his own right, and he supposes the council had wished to float him by demoting him from guard to janitor. It's as though they believed he needed a reminder he was at the bottom of the food chain, as if maybe that'd break his rebellious streak and render him obedient. 

But they'd never really achieved it, he thinks. Bellamy had always known he was stationed a little higher than those who thought to punish people for simply living. Where he doubts Chancellor Jaha even spares a thought about Aurora Blake, Bellamy thinks about those three hundred people — three hundred of _his_ people — who had died because he'd let his fear of being found out possess him and urge him to toss a radio into a river.

He looks to her then, his gaze as soft as his voice, "Sometimes there's nothing you can do."

"Do you really believe that?" Her hands grip her pants tighter before she relaxes her fingers. She tilts her head up to look at him. "What would you have done if it was Octavia?"

Without missing a beat, he says, "Raze this place." He sees her smile, a slight curve to her lips, before he looks down at her hands once more. "If it was Octavia — If they wanted to kill Octavia, I would've done everything I could to stop it. And if I failed … I'd be dead, anyway. There's no point to living if she's not here."

He understands what he's implying, that he cares so much about Octavia that he can't cease living without her. For his entire life, he's been caring for her, ensuring her to be safe, wanting her to have a life that's more than just darkness under the floor. He doesn't know who Finn was to Raven other than the boy who had been kind to her, but he doubts that Raven needs him to survive like Bellamy does Octavia.

Maybe it's a little mean, but Raven doesn't flinch like he would if she was to imply Octavia wasn't a piece of him, a significant limb to his body he'd topple over or cease to exist if she was removed from him.

She doesn't look at him at all. "I used to think you were just a jerk trying to control her." A part of him had thought the same thing, and still does, at times, but Bellamy's since realised it pays off to have a shadow. "No one _has_ a sibling. I don't think anyone gets it — what it's like to have another person be the other half of you." He doubts Raven had looked at Finn as a brother to her. If she looked at Finn as anything, it'd be her moon in the sky, or the stars littering the night, giving her hope and something to wish and rely upon in the darkness. He used to believe the stars would grant him wishes when he was younger, until he realised that it was an empty sentiment. A ball of gas only burns in the sky, but it's his hands that move mountains and create his own destiny.

He waits for a moment, thinking she'll continue, but he doesn't really know this side of Raven at all. She's all quiet and kind, pensive and reflective, and he thinks this is what she must be like when she's not elbow deep in making bullets or fixing radios so she can hear the stars talk to her. So, he chooses to prompt her, "What do you think now?"

She shrugs her shoulder. Pursing her lips together, her tone returns to who he knows her to be, a pain in his ass as she takes the piss out of him, "You're just a good person, I guess." It comes off flippant, as if this isn't the nicest thing she's said to him since she threatened to knife him over a radio. She exhales as she speaks, "Annoying. A pain in the ass. A seriously lousy shot."

She smiles then, and he finds himself mimicking her. She looks at him, swinging her leg once more as her fingers return to curling around the edge of the table. "You don't have to sit with me. I've been alone in dark places before."

Bellamy shrugs, looking away from her. "I'm comfortable."

She arches her brow, her tone disbelieving, "With hard wood underneath your ass?"

He nods.

Raven shakes her head. He thinks she purposefully wrinkles her nose when she says, "And with that stench?"

He deadpans, "Love it."

He can see her from the corner of his eye looking at his profile, as if trying to figure out what the hell he's thinking. She can pull radios apart and rebuild them, but he's found she falters at doing so with humans. Purposefully, he keeps his attention on the wall before him, trying to not tilt his head to look at her.

She continues to look at him, the crease between her brows smoothing out. He begins to count the stones in the wall, losing after five as he thinks he's counted the same one twice. "Thanks," she says quietly. It draws him to look at her now, perhaps with an expression that's bewildered since she ducks her head to continue, "For sitting with me. For what you did out there." She seems to bite the inside of her mouth, as if she's tasting a lemon, or her words are sharp in their sweetness like a rare fruit they've come across. It comes out quickly, her exhale, "For not hesitating."

He doesn't think much on it. Acting on instinct and impulse is what he seems to excel in. Rebelling against those in charge is what had defined him on the ground when she had plunged to Earth and decided to break open the can he had been trying so hard to contain.

He supposes she prefers him that way now, all rebellious and ready to shoot and ask questions a thousand days later once the dust has properly settled.

"You don't have to thank me," he says as he looks at her. "It was the right thing to do."

She arches her brow, "To stand up for the girl no one believed?"

He thinks to say _yes_ , but it isn't so truthful of an answer. He'd been so determined to stand up for her, to form himself into her shield, because he believed _her_. Raven Reyes may sometimes be a pain in his ass and someone who picks and pokes and prods him until he's ready to snap, but he thinks if he's to say _Because I know you_ it'd be too confronting.

It is to him, when he thinks about it.

So, he finds himself simply parroting her with a shrug of his shoulder, looking away from her as he responds to her with an answer that's as empty as the stars hands, despite their promises to grant space kids wishes. "To believe in someone."

Maybe it's not so empty to her with the way she looks at him a little too long with a smile. It's barely audible when she turns her head and mumbles, "Cute."


	4. so alone i would be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _finn's the fixer just as bellamy's the destroyer._ or the one where bellamy tries to pry clarke's eyes open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's not much of raven in this, but she's pretty pivotal to what occurs in it, nonetheless. i needed to write something on how it felt like bellamy and clarke weren't in sync with one another as they had been in season one. either way, it's pretty important for what's to come!
> 
> i've made [a mix](http://8tracks.com/buries/crumbling) for this story as i am quite inspired by music when i write! hopefully you enjoy that if you're interested in an ear worm. ;)
> 
> again, this is unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine. thank you so much for reading and taking the time to express your enjoyment of this! ♥

He estimates it's been a few hours since Raven had been cut from the tree. They emerge together, him lingering behind her as they slowly ascend the steps from the feasting hall or prison or whatever the hell the Grounders really use that room for. He doesn't try to push her up them, nor does he even hover behind her, trying to passive aggressively encourage her to move faster as he'd seen a blonde Grounder try and do on their walk to Tondc.

It doesn't matter to him how long it takes. Raven tries to crack a joke that goes right over his head, and when she doesn't get a response, she seems to stop and peer over her shoulder at him to say, "Huh. Tough crowd."

The moment they rise, Raven's eyes shift toward the stars. He remembers when they had been able to almost touch them. He wonders if she had, as Spacewalker. Did she reach out to brush her fingers against what had held her hopes and dreams? He wonders if they still do.

The sun has since descended and the stars have untucked themselves from their beds to twinkle in the dark sky. She stops before him, almost blocking him in the frame of the makeshift door leading down to the hall. He may be taller, but she takes up a hell of a lot of space for someone who is shorter than him. She tilts her head as far back as she can without tipping over, and Bellamy remains behind her, looking at her before he even thinks to copy her and peer up at the heavens where they'd descended from.

He doubts they're anything close to gods, even if the Grounders sometimes think they are.

He hears the sound of footsteps approaching them. Tearing his gaze from the night sky that's captivated Raven, he sees O jog over toward them. Her smile is as bright as the moon to him.

She sounds breathless. "Hey," she nods toward him, her eyes focused on Raven. "I saved you some food."

Raven stops looking at the stars to smile at Octavia. "That's nicer than what your brother did for me," Raven quips, the corner of her lips quirking upward as she looks over her shoulder at him. Bellamy rolls his eyes. O looks at him with amusement to the slight arch of her brow, before the two of them ignore that he's even standing behind her. 

She's probably oblivious to it all as Raven returns her gaze to Octavia. She holds out her hand with a royal flourish, something Commander Bitch seems to lack with how stoic and quiet she is for a leader. "Take me to my food, Warrior Girl."

Octavia turns on her heel, looping her arm through Raven's. She doesn't begin to walk, peering over her shoulder at him. "I saved some for you, too," she says. He nods, opting to say nothing at all, as she begins to walk, guiding Raven to where she's set up camp for the evening.

It's an odd sight to Bellamy, seeing his sister arm in arm with someone else. It's how she'd treated him in their own unit, pulling him this way and that, showing him a dress she'd mended to only pull him hard to the opposite side of the wall as she presented to him a black cloth she'd stitched the stars and moon into based off his stories. He doubts she'd been allowed to take that to the Skybox. He hadn't remembered to try and give it to her when he could manage a visit.

He knows it's harmless, but Octavia's smarter than so many give her credit for. It's a sign of unity, of how the Grounders haven't quite broken them with their own lack of displaying that they give a shit about this alliance, too. The Grounders are stitched so closely and tightly together that not even Heracles could hope to tear them apart, but neither are the Sky People weak. He supposes this is Octavia's way of killing two birds with one stone — sending the Grounders a message no one else is smart enough to design and ensuring Raven knows she's not fighting this battle alone.

He watches them leave, but can see another approach him from his peripherals. Any attempt to go for a walk to relieve himself of his pent up stress is currently put on pause. The weight of the world seems to slowly press against his shoulders, rendering him as hopeless as Atlas, but perhaps not as bitter. Remaining where he is, he turns on his feet to face her.

Clarke approaches him like she's a skittish animal, choosing to confront the beast thinking to prey upon her. But Bellamy doesn't want to hunt her like she's game. He doesn't want to hunt her at all.

"Hey," she says, lifting her shoulder as a substitute for a hand. Her lips curve into a smile that drops as quickly as it rises. "How's she doing?"

Bellamy draws in a breath as he looks to where Octavia's guided Raven, watching them sit on a log side by side. As soon as they sit, Lincoln appears, hovering beside Octavia like Cerberus. "Good," he says, turning his gaze back to Clarke. "As good as someone can be."

"I thought it was better I just stayed far away from her," she says. All Bellamy can do is lift his shoulder as a response. He thinks anyone with eyes can see that Clarke Griffin should stay the hell away from Raven Reyes, just in case it's not a fist she throws her way the next time she thinks to poke a girl who has been flayed of her flesh.

When he looks back at her, Clarke's expression is one that's about to shatter. She looks away from him, pressing her lips together in a bid to keep herself in control of her own emotions. He can see that they're running away from her now, but he has no idea on how to encourage her to run after them.

"I didn't mean for any of this to happen," she says, her voice small. He can hear the tears she tries to hold back successfully invade her tone, as if they're pissed that she won't let them shed so they've come to conquer her voice instead. She looks at him and Bellamy knows his expression is soft rather than hard. As much as he wants to guard himself from the grief their camp feels at the loss of Finn, he finds he can't really build his wall fast enough to hide behind. 

"It wasn't your fault," he says. He doesn't take a step forward. Neither does she. There's some distance between them, space that's never really been there before. Even when she'd been some snotty privileged girl he liked to mock with a nickname a boy who wasted oxygen had given her as if it was a tiara, he hadn't felt so far away from her then.

She looks up at him, her voice cracking, "He did all that for me."

Bellamy exhales through his nose as he observes her. "He didn't," he says. He knows he doesn't know Finn's motivations. He barely _knows_ Finn. But he knows the way Clarke's chosen to interpret whatever he's said, whatever's burrowed itself beneath her skin to make her think like she'd been the one to command Finn slaughter an entire group of people. "He was worried about you, but Finn made a choice. What we do in order to look out for our people …" What they do to survive had been a defining moment, a decision that would strip them and chain them to a rock for a monster to devour. But it's not that simple anymore. "It's not their fault. It's ours."

Clarke twists her hands together, looking down at them as her fingers fiddle with one another by her hips. "The way we choose to survive … I'm wondering if it really does define us."

Bellamy shakes his head. "I think the way we choose to live with what we've done is what defines us, Clarke." But he isn't an expert. Regardless of what anyone says, it'd been his fault those people were sacrificed on the Ark. He'd almost let it define him by breaking him, seeing him crumble like he was a tower made of soft stone. But Bellamy thinks he's atoning for his wrongs by ensuring those who have made their way onto the ground, the children and surrogate family members of those who had died, are protected.

Her voice is barely audible, but it rings loudly, like bells, in his ears. "Raven's always going to hate me for what I did." 

"Maybe," he says. He doesn't think to say _She'll get over it_. It's been a good year since Aurora had been floated and he still feels the grief overtake him like it had the moment he realised his mother was doomed to a fate that would prevent her from watching Octavia live the life they'd always wished for her to attain one day. Clarke may make it a point to not look at him, but Bellamy keeps his gaze on her. "I doubt Raven's going to forget. But I think she's more angry with Finn than she is with you."

Clarke looks up at him, her lips pinching once more. She closes her eyes for a brief moment, but it feels so long, like the span of a year, before she opens them once more.

He doubts it's rocket science. He doubts she even wants to hear it. He sincerely doubts Raven even wants to know he's even said it. But Bellamy's not Clarke, he's not Raven, he's not blind and biased and hellbent on burying his head in the sand when it comes to Finn being a martyr for their own cause. Finn's dead and while Bellamy feels an ache in his chest for a man who had been a _friend_ , he can move on easier than they can.

The moment he speaks, her eyes close. "Finn made the choice. Finn gave himself up. Finn put himself in a position that threatened his life. Finn's the one who removed himself from where he's always stood for her." He'd been a constant in a girl's life before he had chosen to take the fall for her spacewalking, if he's to remember the story correctly. It's a choice, one he'd made, one that hadn't been forced upon him. If Bellamy looks back, he can see how Finn had tried to separate himself from her. If he looks back, he can see how Finn had tried to atone for his crimes too late.

Maybe saying his name over and over is cruel, but he wants to hammer it into her skull with a chisel that, sometimes, choices come back to bite people in the ass. As much as he wants to blame himself and only himself for Aurora's fate, she'd been toeing the line of luck by intertwining so closely with those tight with the council. She'd ended up testing Athena like Arachne had, believing herself to be able to out-weave the council and those who kept their eye intently upon her back, and had ended up tying the noose around her own neck.

Once, he'd thought Aurora had died _because of_ Octavia, but Bellamy's since learned that the choices a person makes, the direction they decide to take when they reach a forked road, is what leads them to paradise or dooms them to damnation.

He tilts his head to the side as he observes her, waiting for her to open her eyes. Once she does, he speaks once more, his tone softer and sympathetic, "You're just easier to lash out at since you're _here._ " 

Clarke looks off to the side, in the direction of where Raven and Octavia sit. He follows her gaze, exhaling once more, finding that his shoulders slouch with his sigh. Raven's laughing as Octavia talks animatedly, distracting her by being the little sister he knows her to be — a bright star in the sky instead of a ball of burning gas that does nothing when someone thinks to wish upon it. "And I think the Grounders are taking their anger at Finn out on her."

He can see Clarke turn her head back to him, brows furrowing. He looks at her again. "You think …"

"Sometimes it isn't enough for a leader to kill one of her own." Thinking back to the drop ship, to the very day the Grounders had chosen to wage war upon them, Murphy had wanted revenge. He hadn't been a leader, but of his one-man army, he had been. And Bellamy knows if Raven hadn't saved his ass, the camp would've been up in arms over Bellamy Blake swinging from a raft in the drop ship. It's arrogant of him to think about it like that, believing himself to be _important_ , but Clarke had opened his eyes to his own power, of how the kids had looked up to him — and still do. 

For Murphy, he had tried to poison him as Gustus had wanted Lexa to believe of the Sky People. He'd wanted atonement, a justice that would've opened a box of anarchy not even Pandora could contain. Although Gustus' death has seemed to smooth over the waters, Bellamy doubts anything is as easy as placing all that grief and anger and distrust back in its little box.

Stepping toward her, he reaches out to brush his hand against her shoulder before letting it drop. It's the only comfort he knows to give, that he's even comfortable in giving her. He knows she doesn't want him. It's a ghost she wishes to hold her and tell her she's not wrong, that everything's going to be all right. He leans down toward her, "They're angry, Clarke."

"They won't do anything," she says, shaking her head. She sounds desperate, like she wants to believe in it. She's convincing herself by trying to convince him, her biggest critic, the most stubborn nonbeliever in such good fortune. If she can persuade him that the Grounders won't think to retaliate, then maybe she can believe it herself, too. "It's over."

"For Lexa, maybe," he says. He looks away from her, licking his lips, wondering if there's any point in adding more weight to her shoulders. But Bellamy thinks it's probably best Clarke understand who she's dealing with. They're Grounders. They're people. They're a family, regardless of how savage they can be in their beliefs. 

He looks down at her, "They care about their own, Clarke. I think we need to show them that we do, too."

Her brows crinkle. "How?" Her voice cracks. She looks up at him as if he has all the answers, eyes searching his own as though she can unlock them from his own dark gaze. "We're standing together. Even Kane's on board with this."

Having Kane on their side means little to the people who don't know how much of a pain in the ass he is. He's all diplomatic and polite to them, but to the Sky People, to the kids who had been dropped on this ground, he's still one of their biggest obstacles. But he doesn't think to tell Clarke what should be obvious to her. Maybe when she's thinking more clearly she'll realise that they're fighting a war on two fronts when it comes to convincing others of them — the criminals — being in the right.

"It's not enough," he says, shrugging. He may possess stories, but he doesn't have the answers to this particular problem. He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth to bite hard down on it as he contemplates even speaking further, but Bellamy's always been a little too candid with Clarke to keep his mouth zipped shut tightly. "You hesitated," he says, remembering Raven's own words. His parroting of them lacks the weight of its meaning it had when Raven had spoken them. "You didn't fight for her hard enough. For the sake of the alliance, you were willing to let her die."

"I wasn't —"

" _I_ know," he says firmly. Clarke's face crumbles, her eyes reddening. She looks away from him like he's punched her in the jaw. He doesn't say anything, though. Finn's the fixer just as Bellamy's the destroyer.

Looking over her head, he notices the blonde with intricate braids from earlier, the black war paint decorating her eyes. She's looking at them unblinkingly, stare as sharp as any knife. If he's to look around, he knows the Grounders stare at the Sky People like they're enemies. Like they're prey to hunt. The woman he stares at now, meeting her hard gaze with hard gaze, is the woman who had tried to trip Raven over on their walk here. He remembers it as clearly as if she'd been the one to tie her to the tree.

Clarke eventually looks up at him, brows crinkling once more, before she peers over her shoulder to follow his gaze. He looks back at her as she tries to study what he's seen. It's not rocket science to understand what he's trying to unweave. Clarke thinks herself to be Arachne, talented enough to unweave what she has woven, but Bellamy knows he's better than her. He's Athena, challenging her to outdo him, to only find that she falls short just as he had expected. 

Once she turns back to looking at him, he says quietly, "But _they_ don't."


	5. in a world that you're not near

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _if it means anything, i believe in you, shooter._ or the one where bellamy picks a side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know what's really cool? having an outline that your writing completely deviates from. this was meant to be more of a conversation between bellamy and raven, as the one with clarke was meant to come later, but lets hope it still fits in with what i wanted to do with our rebel king.
> 
> as always, thank you for reading and commenting! this is unbeta'd, so any mistakes are all mine. ♥

Clarke easily spreads her blanket on the uneven ground, a short walk away from the main hub of Tondc. If he remembers correctly, they're an hour or so out from the _Tondc 10 miles_ sign. He isn't so sure if that's a good thing. It'd been the very moment they'd _tried_ with the Grounders. He hadn't slept well that night, keeping one eye open as he waited for one of them to try and plunge their knives into his back. He isn't so sure if Clarke did, either. Honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if it was the best sleep she'd gotten all week.

She doesn't hesitate in showing she still trusts the Grounders, despite them giving the Sky People no reason to. Killing Gustus may be a small demonstration of their trust in them, but Bellamy doesn't see it as much. It'd been a part of their beliefs to punish those who tried to hurt them. It'd been a part of Lexa's own terms for the alliance, but he doubts she'd even thought she'd be torturing one of her own.

Or maybe she did. Bellamy doesn't know how the Grounders think.

He takes a few steps forward, the ground crunching beneath his boots, but he hovers near the line he thinks that straddles the two camps. Clarke's near a tree, its trunk so thick he doubts a Grounder axe could slice through it even with the most powerful arm propelling it forward. Looking down at the leaf-covered ground, he looks over his shoulder. 

Raven leans back against a tree on the very outskirts of the darkness that settles in behind them. She looks exhausted, bags beneath her eyes, hair slightly a mess that reminds him of a nest. He knows there's some blood beneath her fingernails from scratching her arms.

"Bellamy," Clarke's quiet voice draws him to look back at her. She's peering up at him, on her bended knee, as she pulls her blanket along the ground to straighten it. Regardless of what she does, she won't find smooth earth beneath herself to sleep tonight. 

He looks down at her blanket. An age may pass between them before he looks up at her again. Without realising it, he shakes his head. "I'm going to give it a miss."

" _Bellamy_." She sounds slightly panicked, or exasperated, he isn't so sure. He doesn't know when he stopped being able to read Clarke. But she stands and draws his focus back to her when he wishes to turn his back on the Grounders and this alliance that's only going to get them killed. Taking a step toward him, she leans up to make herself bigger, even though she's never looked smaller to him than she has tonight. "We need to make them trust us. We need to show them that we trust them. That nothing's changed."

"Everything's changed, though," he says evenly. He lifts his shoulders, as if that's meant to explain what Clarke refuses to acknowledge. His voice remains hushed, but he can hear the exasperation in it as if it was a loud clap of thunder, "They were ready to torture one of our own without even _thinking_ about it, Clarke. And we almost let them." 

She opens her mouth, but he shakes his head. " _We_ slept on their side of the camp when we were walking to Tondc. _We_ trusted them not to poison our food. _We_ trusted them to listen to us." His hands ball into fists as he leans down toward her, "You do see how this is one-sided, right?"

She pinches her lips together before she struggles, "I —"

"I'm not saying we burn this alliance, Clarke. We're already in too deep." He lifts his shoulder. If they were to remove themselves now, they'd be fighting a war on two fronts. It's a fight they're not prepared for, one he doubts they ever would be. Even with all the guns and bombs in the world, they'll eventually run out. Without any maps leading them to abandoned bunkers and with their own group splintered between Ark and Delinquent, the alliance is the only thing really piecing _them_ together. "But what I'm saying is that maybe _they_ need to give us a sign of trust."

Clarke's shoulders fall back, defeated. He decides, then and there, it's really not a good look on her. "You want them to sleep on our side of camp."

"They could _try_ ," he says, arms moving against his sides to only slap against them in his own defeat. "They could make an effort. They lost my trust." Though, he doubts that particularly matters.

Glancing down, she exhales with a nod, "Because of what they did to Raven."

He doesn't answer. Instead, he leans forward and looks over her shoulder at the Grounders in the distance. They're in clusters, groups of two or three. They blend in too well with the dark. If it wasn't for the fires littered on the edges of camp, he wouldn't be able to see them at all.

His eyes drop back to her, voice lowering, "Did we get a say on how Gustus was buried? Finn _died_ , Clarke, and it wasn't _our_ choice. We didn't get to decide how _our_ person was punished." He curls his fingers into his fist to prevent himself from pointing toward the Grounders behind her. "They got to choose how he was put to rest. Gustus almost got _Raven_ killed, Clarke, and he died as a Grounder."

He can see she's barely holding back tears. Pressing her lips together so tightly her own skin looks as white as the moon at her fullest, her eyes glisten if he's to focus on them. He thinks to pull back and be softer, but he knows that when it comes to Finn, it'll always be like a blade to the gut for her. A thousand cuts and more, he guesses, but it's a torture that he thinks she'll one day heal from.

"Gustus died as a Grounder. Finn didn't die as someone from the Ark. He didn't even get buried as one," he says, finding his voice softening. "I'm not going to bend backwards for a group of people who won't do the same for us. You want me to show my bare back to you? Show me yours."

She wipes the back of her hand beneath her eyes. Bellamy thinks to reach out and brush his hand against her shoulder, as if that'll pull her back together, but it's not his touch she longs for. Clarke keeps her head bowed and nods a bit too quickly and intently for him. She sniffs, letting her hands drop to her sides, before she looks up at him, head held high and neck arched, "I'm sleeping on this side of camp."

She may think she looks big, as tall as any tree, as fearsome as any Commander, but to Bellamy, she looks smaller than she has in months. The loud girl he'd tossed _Princess_ toward with acid coating his tongue isn't there anymore.

Bellamy nods, subdued.

Clarke looks away from him. A few moments that feel so prolonged span between them before she kneels once more, gliding her hands along her blanket. Bellamy's hesitant to turn his back on her.

His feet feel heavy as he walks to his side of camp. He glances up only once to find Raven looking at him, lips parted and a soft kink to her brow, but he keeps his gaze down. The crunch of the leaves is louder than it has been since they've begun their walk from Tondc. It feels a little safer, like the air is thinner, with their agreement not to camp right in the political hub of the Grounders. It'd been Kane's idea, his own test of their trust of them, but it's not enough for Bellamy. 

He can hear the Grounders, speaking in their native tongue, much louder than he had when he'd crossed the border dividing their camps. He knows some of them are watching him. There's always a few Grounders he recognises, not by name but by face, that always seem to linger in his peripherals. A part of him wishes they'd stayed in the heart of the Grounder political base. A part of him is just glad someone's going to watch his back tonight, regardless of where they sleep. But what he can feel more than the fires burning in the corners is her gaze trying to set him aflame.

When he drops himself beside her, a little in front of her as there's no tree for him to lean against, he pulls his knees to his chest and lets his arms hang off them. In the meantime, she's pulled grass from the ground. He doesn't look at her. Maybe that's why she tosses the grass toward him. From the corner of his eye, he can see her looking at him. Her voice is soft, "What the hell was that about?"

He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and shakes his head, shrugging slightly. He isn't so sure if his shoulders have even moved. "Trying to make a point."

She ducks her head slightly, as if trying to capture his gaze. He keeps his on Clarke in the distance, watching the Grounders, some familiar, like the blonde and her clean shaven companion, and some unfamiliar, like a man with thick braids in his hair. "About?"

"This alliance," he says. He looks at her from the corner of his eye before he lets his gaze settle on the Grounders in the distance. "It's shit."

Raven settles against the tree, letting her head fall against the bark. She scoffs, drawing his gaze to her. "Tell me about it," she says. She shakes her head before she looks at him. "This alliance is a complete waste of time, Bellamy. You can see that, I can see that. Why can't they?"

He looks down at her legs, noticing how they're extended out before her rather than pressed against her chest like his. Sometimes he forgets a bullet had lodged itself into her spine and had taken a part of her with it when Abby Griffin had removed it from her back. What swells within him is difficult to push away. He thinks maybe that's why. Guilt.

"Do you believe in it?" she asks. He looks over his shoulder at her. With her leaning against the tree, she's behind him. It isn't on purpose he acts like her shield, but he wonders if maybe being cloaked in his shadow has soothed her own raised hackles. "The alliance."

"No," he says without missing a beat. He looks back toward the heart of the camp, watching Clarke was she sits on her blanket. Lexa approaches her, offering her a cup. "I believe in Clarke."

There's a pause before Raven's voice, wrapped in incredulousness, tries to draw his gaze back to her. "You sure about that?"

Bellamy looks down at the ground, watching as the feet of their people crunch the leaves and spread their own blankets on the ground and build their own tents. Octavia's with Lincoln, her voice louder than anyone else's in camp, even though she's whispering. They're huddled together by a fire, Lincoln's arm draped securely around her shoulders. Quietly, he admits, "I want to be."

"I want to be, too," she says. He doesn't look over his shoulder immediately. "I wanted to, anyway. Clarke always knew all the answers. She had them all, you know? There was nothing she couldn't do. But I guess basic empathy is one of them."

"She feels bad," he says. Raven doesn't look up at him, keeping her gaze on the ground. "I think what happened with Finn isn't making her see straight."

"Or think," she says. She reaches beside her to pull more grass from the earth. "Whenever it comes to him, she never thinks."

Bellamy lifts his shoulder, looking at the ground by her feet. Her good leg twitches, moving her foot side to side, but her bum leg barely makes a tremor in the ground. Even though it doesn't, Bellamy can feel its movement reverberate through the earth beneath him, much louder and stronger than her good leg can make the ground crack if she's to stomp on it.

"What would you have done?" When he looks at her, she's gazing at him. Her expression is one that's readable, one that tells him too much about her, and Bellamy chooses not to read the darkness to her gaze at all. "If you were the one Lexa held a torch for. Would you have done it? If I'd given you that knife. Would you have killed him?"

She may wish for him to imagine his own feet in Clarke's shoes, but Bellamy doesn't. He looks at her before letting his focus shift to the bark over her shoulder. If he had been the one to say goodbye to Finn, he isn't so sure of what he would've done. If it had been Octavia, he knows he would've joined her on the pole. If it had been his sister, he would've done what Raven tried to do, but without framing Murphy for the massacre he didn't deserve to die for.

She knows that. Better yet, she knows whatever he would've done for Octavia, he never would've risked doing for Finn.

"I don't know," he says quietly, shaking his head.

"You would've killed every last one of them if it was Octavia," she states it, rather than asking. He looks up at her. There's a slight quirk to her lips. "I thought maybe I would be like that — like you. Finn was my everything, but I was too scared to try and stand up for him."

Bellamy remains quiet, finding any protests putter out the moment they spark on his tongue.

"I think a part of me wanted to punish him for what he did to me with Clarke. Even what he did to Clarke." She shakes her head, her gaze dropping to his hip. "I guess I did get to do that. By being friends with her. By being reminded that he isn't the beginning and the end of my world." She looks up at him, then, and he thinks maybe they're sitting too close to the fire for how hot his face feels.

Raven's carved herself a life on the ground. With friends and with a place that is hers and hers alone, with no one able to fill the role of the resident bomb expert, he thinks maybe Raven's flourished more on Earth than she had on the Ark. But he doesn't know. The youngest Zero G on the Ark maybe had it better up in space.

"I still wish I could've saved him," she says. When he looks up at her, he notices how her eyes are wet. Unlike Clarke, she doesn't wipe at them. Her lips curve upward as she quietly laughs, a short, mirthless burst of air. "It was my knife that was used. I guess I got to save him after all." 

She looks up at him, biting at her bottom lip for a moment as she studies him. Bellamy thinks to look away, but he keeps his gaze on her instead. "It's not easy anymore, is it?" She looks away from him, _beyond_ him, and nods toward the Grounder side of camp. "They're people. One of them actually offered me a cup of whatever the hell they drink."

Flicking her fingers against a tin can by the other side of her hip, cloaked in shadow, he lets his eyes trail there before looking up at her. She looks surprised, amused, even, by it. 

"Those people didn't deserve to die," he says. He finds something shift inside of his chest, like boulders removing their weight from where they sit inside of him. "O knew them. They had to be good people."

"They probably were," she says, eyes narrowed slightly. He thinks, maybe, Raven's straddling the same line as him. "Your sister's a good judge of character," she says, her voice slightly louder, more warmer than it's been in hours. Pulling more grass from the ground, she throws it at him. It's a pathetic attempt, given how they sink to the ground almost immediately without touching him. "So are you. Surprisingly."

Bellamy rolls his eyes as she smiles. With her good leg, she nudges the back of his arm with the toe of her boot. "Why aren't you with her? On the other side of camp."

He looks down at her foot. He doesn't answer her immediately. "I'm waiting for something," he says.

"What?"

He shrugs. "I don't know." He looks up at her. "I'm looking for something. Don't know what."

"That sounds dumb," she says. "Looking for something but you don't know what that is." Her voice is much lighter than it has been in a while, all gentle and containing a laugh. For the girl who knows what she needs to create a bomb, he doubts she's ever really been in the position of not knowing what it is she knows she craves. Sometimes, he envies her having direction. "You're a dumbass."

He looks at her, then. He finds the corner of his lips curve up, "And you're a pain in the ass."

Raven seems to beam. Bellamy finds he can't look away, not even when she's being an asshole. "Are you going to sleep beside me and protect me from all the bad Grounder monsters?" She flutters her eyelashes then.

He doesn't answer her, turning his head to look at the camp instead. Maybe it's too much of a solemn response, but he doesn't have an answer for her at all. The Grounders are the enemy, but they're also a friend — he finds himself having a hard enough time trying to trust Lincoln and the monster that had lurked inside of him, waiting for Mount Weather to unleash it.

"I like that you're sitting with me," she says softly. "They treat me like I'm contagious. Like I'm some biological warfare from Murphy." She scoffs, rolling her eyes. "That asshole wouldn't know how to _start_ biological warfare."

He keeps his gaze away from her. "He knows how to waste time."

"If it means anything," she says, ignoring him. She must stretch, pushing herself slightly down the tree so she can tap him with her good foot. It's a little too hard, but Bellamy supposes that's on purpose. She waits for him to look at her over his shoulder. "If it means anything, I believe in you, shooter."

He doesn't think on it. 

Bellamy tries to bite back a smile, but he finds that it wins, nonetheless. "Except for my aim."

Raven smiles, warmer than the fires lighting the camps. "Except for your lousy aim." She pulls herself back to lean against the tree properly again, spine straight instead of curved. "We should probably work on that."


	6. if our bodies get ugly and our hearts stop beating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _he thinks to take it out of their hands, just to spite them, but then he remembers he isn't a grounder. he isn't that type of grounder._ or the one where bellamy is king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're coming to the end of our grounder confrontation for this story! i feel like the grounders are a very cohesive and well-oiled unit, but, then again, they're also people with emotions and connections and their own stories. how would you feel if one of your own who was only looking out for the good of his people was punished for that? i kind of wanted to address that here, that, essentially, the grounders are people.
> 
> thanks so much for reading and commenting! again, this is unbeta'd and all mistakes are mine. ♥

If the Ark has taught Bellamy anything, it's that good things never last. If the ground had reinforced any lessons, it's that one.

He doesn't have a tent. The idea of packing one and wasting time putting it together to only deconstruct it is a _waste_ to him. Sleeping on a blanket in the open is something he's become used to, even in the presence of Grounders.

They make their own camp by the outskirts of the woods, near the tree Raven had taken to leaning against for a moment of respite. She'd chosen it for a reason, he guesses, and he supposes it's only right that he doesn't take her too far from the area she deems to be safe for her.

"You don't have to stay," she says, sitting on her blanket before dropping onto her back. Her hands fold against her chest as she looks up at the night sky. "I'm fine with my friends."

Bellamy smoothes down the corner of his blanket with his boot before he sits. "What friends?"

Raven rolls her eyes before she points toward the stars. "My friends," she repeats. She opens her fingers, reaching for them, as if she can capture them within her hand and bring them to her chest. Letting her hand rest against her collarbone, she keeps her gaze on them. "They're the only ones who have always had my back. I used to stare obsessively out that big window sometimes. I told myself I'd touch them one day." She turns to face him, a proud grin brightening her features for the first time in days. "I did."

"That's cool," he says. He plants his hands flat against the blanket and stretches his legs out. Peering up at the stars, all he sees are tiny dots, and sometimes the cluster of culled bodies. "The fact you made your wish come true. It's something Mom always said. Wish upon a star with a pure heart and you'll get what you wanted."

"Your mom sounds great," she says. When he looks at her, she's staring up at the stars, looking content and almost at peace, despite the conversation at hand dropping stones onto his heart. "I'm sorry, you know. When it happened, I felt so bad."

Bellamy thinks to stay quiet, and he does, for a few moments. His brows pinch just as he feels his eyes prick. He's tired. It's been a long few days. Even he can admit he's felt emotionally and mentally drained. He wants to run as fast and far from this conversation, but he finds his feet are standing still. 

He looks to her and finds his voice is as hushed as the night itself, "Why?"

"No one deserves to die for being a good person," she says quietly. "For being capable of loving more than yourself." She presses her cheek against her blanket. He thinks she's going to apologise again and so he looks up at the stars instead, wanting to deter her. "I was told that when someone dies, they become a star. That the brightest one _I_ see is that person, waving at me."

He looks at her, noticing how she purposefully turns her head to look at the stars. She laughs quietly, more at herself than from mirth. "It sounds so stupid —"

"It doesn't."

She turns to look at him, the upward curve to her mouth softer. "I want to think Finn's the bright star for me." Her voice becomes quieter, barely audible, "But I know it's not true."

Bellamy thinks she's wrong, but it isn't his place to say anything. Grief can turn even the brightest of constellations into the darkest and plainest of meteor rocks.

Instead, he sighs, shifting, ensuring the grass beneath his blanket makes some noise with his shuffling. "You should get some sleep." Bellamy lies down, arms tucked beneath his head as a makeshift pillow. He looks up at the stars, rather than at her. "We've got more shit to deal with tomorrow."

He thinks she rolls her eyes, but he doesn't know. He falls asleep easier than he has in a long while.

He awakens, probably as soon as his eyes close, and he finds himself walking along the tips of the stars in the sky. A hand is shaking him, Octavia's voice pulling him from following her along the Milky Way. "Bell, _Bell_." Her fingers are strong, her nails sharp, as they dig into the fabric of his jacket. "Wake up!"

He blinks and pushes himself up onto his elbows. "O?"

"It's Raven," she says, voice panicked. It cracks and he notices there's tears in her eyes. "Something's happening."

Bellamy pushes himself up quickly and to his feet, Octavia following suit from her crouched position. The sleep of his voice scurries away as his brows furrow, and he feels anger swell inside of his chest, trying to drown out the panic. "What's wrong?"

Octavia opens her mouth before closing it, shaking her head. Her words tumble into a heap as she speaks hurriedly, "I don't know. She came to me, saying she wasn't feeling well — She just collapsed. She's not responding to me, Bell."

"Where's Abby?" He turns his foot on his blanket, scrunching it up and dirtying it, and searches for Raven. But it's hard to see when the world is cloaked in darkness. "Where's Clarke?"

Octavia wraps her fingers around his wrist and pulls him away from his makeshift campsite. She's sleeping a little further into the camp, blocked from his view by Abby's tent. When she pulls him along the path she'd taken, feet slipping against the wet ground, he sees Raven lying on her side, on the top of Octavia's blanket, with Lincoln pressing his hand against her forehead.

"She's cold," he says, looking up. He opens his mouth, hesitating, looking to Octavia before his eyes settle on Bellamy. 

"What is it?" Octavia looks between them desperately.

"She drank something they gave her," Bellamy sighs, aggravated. His eyes narrow as his brows pinch, trying to remember the last few hours. "Maybe bad water?"

Lincoln looks down at Raven. "It's poison."

Octavia's hand grips his wrist tighter. Bellamy thinks to ask _How do you know?_ but Lincoln's their expert in toxic substances during Monty's absence. It's a stupid question to ask, one that Bellamy doesn't waste any time on.

His wrist slips from Octavia's grasp as he marches so powerfully to the divide between camps the world seems to shake underneath him.

Lexa's standing with Clarke, the two talking. The Commander looks untouched, unworried, just like a Grounder has always appeared to him. When Clarke turns to face him, her eyes are red and her cheeks glisten in the firelight.

" _You_ —"

Clarke moves to block him from advancing upon Lexa. The Grounders stand to attention, some of their hands moving toward their weapons while others glare at him. It's as sharp as an axe to the head, but Bellamy doesn't flinch. 

Pressing her hands against his chest, Clarke applies some force behind her attempt to halt him. "Bellamy —"

"I'm done," he says, looking over Clarke's shoulder as he glares at Lexa. "Fix this or it's over."

Lexa merely blinks, like she's unaffected by the series of events that have begun to unravel. "You don't have any —"

"I don't take orders from _you_ ," he says, moving forward to feel Clarke push against him. He stays where he is, feet pressing so hard into the ground he may as well grow roots there. "You either get the the cure or you tell me who did this."

"I don't know," Lexa says calmly.

"We're trying to figure it out, Bellamy," Clarke whispers. When he looks down at her, she's peering up at him earnestly. He knows she wants him to stop, but Bellamy's a hurricane, refusing to cease for anyone.

"And how long is that going to take? Talking has gotten us _nowhere_."

"It got us here," Clarke says. He thinks to ask _To this? To not trusting one another?_ but he finds his anger eats it away, using it to fuel him to be consumed by fire and burn hotter than even the sun itself. Clarke's voice quietens, "We need this alliance." 

"No we _don't_ , Clarke. We're strong on our own."

"We need them."

"And we need Raven _alive_." His hands ball into tight fists, his blunt fingernails threatening to pierce the skin of his palms. "How many times do they have to try and kill her before you pull your head out of your ass, Clarke?"

She flinches, but Bellamy doesn't feel a ping of remorse for how sharp his own tone is.

"They're savages," he says, looking over her head to glare pointedly at Lexa. Her shoulders move, as if she's trying to armour herself against something that _hurts_. _Good_ , he wants to say, _I'm glad it hurts._ "They're not _people_ , Clarke. We're stupid for even believing they are."

"I'll find who did this," Lexa says. She stands tall, but Bellamy thinks she looks so small. "I promise you."

He takes a step forward, pushing up against Clarke. "Your promises mean _nothing_ to me."

"That's —"

" _No_." Bellamy glares at Lexa. He doesn't realise he's shouting, but he can hear the crack in his own voice, the exhaustion tainting it. "No. We've done it your way. We lost one of our own. We lost a _friend_ , just like you." He lets that sit for a moment, though it's not on purpose. He needs a moment to simply breathe before he starts breathing fire once more. "We're still grieving. We're still trying to process what he did to _your_ people. We don't condone what he did. But if you're expecting me to stand here and ignore what _you_ have done, then this alliance is just as useless as I thought."

"Bellamy," Clarke pleads.

He spins on his foot to look at her, his own voice cracking as his expression breaks from stern to rubble. "No, Clarke. I told you we did it their way and I'm _done_." He looks back to Lexa, expression shifting into hard and cold stone once more. "You get me that cure or I'll start putting a bullet into every joint of your people. You last."

"Blake!" he hears Kane's voice echo, but he's not the Chancellor anymore. He's no one but a man hellbent on securing his post of power. He can't even catch the words he wants to use to bring this battle to a quick and diplomatic end, simply staring at Lexa who remains as a statue before them all.

His people, regardless of what they may think of him turning into a hurricane, still stand behind him, though, as his shadow, as his own army. No one thinks to speak up. A part of Bellamy knows no one wants to. 

The Grounders' hands remain on their weapons, standing tall and ready to strike. He can feel the heat of Lexa's gaze press hard against him, assessing him, trying to discern how serious he is. If he had a gun in his hands, if he even had taken a moment to _think_ to grab his, he'd shoot the ground at her feet to show her how serious he is.

She turns to face her side of the camp, speaking in the native tongue of her people. Her voice is sharp and loud, the tone of a leader, as she surveys her people and stares _them_ down instead.

He's tense for what feels like decades, standing in the one spot with Clarke's hand pressed against his chest. His heart beats so rapidly, so fast and heavy, that he doesn't hear anything for the hour that passes.

He thinks to go back to Raven, but with O and Lincoln flanking her sides, he knows her to be well-protected from any more danger thinking to strike at her with a thousand knives.

Kane approaches him. He feels his hand on his arm, but Bellamy doesn't hear him. He doesn't even remember acknowledging him.

He isn't so sure of how much time passes, if Clarke even flinches or grows tired of trying to keep him in place, but eventually he hears Lexa bark in her language, a man with thick shoulders and a jaw that could cut stone, walks over the invisible divide of their camps and is escorted to Raven with Kane keeping a sharp eye on him.

The blonde woman with the neat braids and the man with the clean face are forced to their knees in front of him. She spits at the ground by his feet. 

"Gustus is dead because of you!" she screeches. Her voice is so high, so fractured, and so thick with emotion that he isn't surprised when he looks upon her face, high cheekbones and brilliant green eyes, that she's crying. "Sky People! This alliance will kill us all."

Lexa's hands are curled tightly around their shoulders, causing the two Grounders to wince. The man remains mute, just as the woman bows her head, gritting her teeth. He can hear her crying quietly.

Lexa nods toward him, "We'll deal with this accordingly."

Bellamy looks up at her. He thinks to say _No, you won't_ and insist _they_ punish her people, just as she had insisted on Finn falling to the hand of them. But the Sky People aren't as cruel in their methods, aren't as callous and built to become detached to those they tether themselves to. Floating had been hard. Floating had been easy. Space and the lack of oxygen had done all the dirty work for them. All Chancellor Jaha had to do was push a button.

Maybe it hurts them more, having to kill one of their own, having to _punish_ their own people. Out in space, there's no sound. The moment those doors open, it's finished. There's no scream, there's no begging. He understands a thousand cuts is a torture inflicted upon traitors, but he's beginning to wonder if it's meant to torment the person holding the blade. 

He thinks to take it out of their hands, just to spite them, but then he remembers he isn't a Grounder. He isn't _that_ type of Grounder.

Lexa looks down for a moment, appearing more as a girl than a leader. "I'm sorry," she says. She glances up at him. "I am. We want this alliance to work."

"I don't care about your alliance," he says, shaking his head. His voice is still hard and acidic, even in the face of sincerity. "I care about you leaving her alone."

He pushes away from Clarke, almost pushing _off_ of her, as he stomps his way back toward Octavia's little camp. Against the fires, Raven looks pale. She shivers, like she's locked in some feverish dream, but with Abby hovering over her, the back of her hand pressed against her temple, he thinks she must be alright.

Bellamy doesn't ask or think as he bends down to scoop Raven up into his arms. She's weightless, unmoving, quiet and unlike herself without a quip prepared, but he doesn't linger on it. Leaving her by herself had seen her believe the best in the Grounders who had only ever saw her and approached her with the worst of intentions.

She isn't cut. She isn't bleeding. He doesn't hesitate to move her to somewhere more private, where she isn't a spectacle or a sight to be pitied.

"You can have my tent," Abby says, and she moves to pull it open for him. He carries Raven inside, lying her down on Abby's blankets. She's asleep, still feeling feverish to the touch, but her skin is a little warmer against the back of his hand. "I'll make sure no one disturbs you, but I'll come in and check on her every half hour." She closes the tent flap, leaving them be.

Bellamy sits on the ground beside her, knees drawn up and arms resting on his kneecaps, and he simply waits there, watching the shadows move and dance against the fabric of the tent.

It isn't until a few hours later he feels a brush against his shoulder. He's lying down, still watching the shadows, when she reaches out to touch him. "Hey," she says weakly.

"Hey," he sits up. "How are you feeling?"

"Super," she says, rubbing her eye. "Like I just got poisoned by a Grounder again. What are the chances, huh?"

"We're dealing with it," he says. "Trust me."

Her voice is quiet, but her stare is as loud as a clap of thunder. "You don't need to tell me that, dumbass."

"I'll go get Abby." He makes a move to get up, but her hand extends out to stop him.

"No," she shakes her head. "She's been coming in every five minutes asking me the same question over and over." He settles, reluctantly, into his sitting position. Her hand doesn't move from his arm. "Just lie with me. It'll make me feel better someone else isn't sitting up."

He nods, slowly lowering himself to the blanket inside of Abby's tent.

She takes her hand back, slowly and weakly, or maybe it's on purpose, wanting to ensure that he's real. He finds he doesn't mind. Being able to feel her move rather than lie still and quiet calms him.

He thinks they'll remain quiet, presuming Raven's content to not hear her own voice, but her request is so quiet it startles him, "Tell me about the other guy, the hero who saved Andromeda."

"Perseus?" Bellamy shrugs his shoulders as he continues to look up at the canopy of Abby's tent. Tucking his arms behind his head, he looks at her from the corner of his eye. She's peering at him, looking at him as though he's a star in the sky. "He stopped in the Aethiopia kingdom, the one that Andromeda was the princess of."

"I can't pronounce that." 

"I can't spell it," he says. Her smile is so small, so he thinks to continue. His words are slow. "I guess he must've heard what was happening, because the oracle of Ammon told King Cepheus he had to sacrifice Andromeda to the monster. He saved her. Slew the monster. Didn't even know her."

He feels weight against his chest. When he looks down, he sees how she's rolled onto her side to rest her head against his chest. Bellamy doesn't think to say anything. He doubts she even knows what she's done. But her hand presses flat over his shirt and she remains still.

He doesn't stop, though, hopefully not noticeably. "Some of the stories say he flew Pegasus, a horse with wings. Others say he used flying sandals, sort of like what Hermes wears." He remembers she probably doesn't know about him. "He's the god of travelling. Flying shoes help with that."

Her hand shifts against his chest just as her leg slides over his, hooking him to her. 

"Andromeda had been promised to Phineus. He didn't like that she married Perseus in the end. But I guess she liked a man who actually got off his ass and saved her when she was bound to a rock and tossed away like she meant nothing to a sea creature." He feels his shirt become wet, and as tempting as it is to look down at her, Bellamy keeps his gaze on the ceiling of the tent.

"Phineus was invited to the wedding. He and Perseus got into a bit of a fight, so, Perseus won that by turning Phineus to stone." He feels her shake and hears her shift, but he says nothing. "Medusa was a woman who was punished for breaking a vow of celibacy to Athena, the virgin goddess, and so she was transformed from a beautiful maiden to a terrible monster with serpents for hair. Looking directly at her could turn you into stone." He moves his arms from beneath his head, letting a hand rest against his chest as the other wraps around her. His fingers curl around her bicep. 

He can hear the amusement in his own tone, regardless of how light it may be, "He made for a great wedding present." 

She laughs wetly before she even moves, wiping at her eyes. "Were they happy?"

He pauses. He thinks to say _No one in the Greek stories is ever really happy._ But Andromeda had been tied to a rock, sacrificed to a sea monster, and had made a life for herself that she seemed to be happy with. She had survived, and he thinks that maybe that's all that really matters. 

"Yes."

She breathes out, "Good."


	7. if you're tired of hearing my voice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _he's no one to her, but he thinks, right now, in this every moment, he's transforming himself into the very saviour her people need._ or the one where bellamy makes the better deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is meant to set us up for the last part, which hopefully i'll remember to blab on about when i write it. i have no idea how to write lexa, but, you know, it was fun to challenge myself. hopefully this'll all tie up nicely in the next bit! writing a manipulative bellamy and a game of "mine's bigger than yours" was a nice break from all the pain and angst and unspoken feelings we're never going to talk about ever.
> 
> thanks so much for reading and taking the time to comment! once more, this is unbeta'd, so all mistakes are rightfully mine. ♥

Bellamy stopped sleeping well the very day Aurora was arrested and Octavia had been thrown into the Skybox. He's gotten a good amount of sleep on the Ark, even on the ground, worn out by the _activities_ he chose to undertake for the sole purpose of being indulgent of his freedom on the ground.

Sometimes he wishes he'd go back to who he used to be, the guy who used to sleep around and have some semblance of fun. But he knows that Bellamy isn't the one she needs right now. He knows that Bellamy isn't the one these kids need.

He's not the one _he_ needs.

Sleeping in Abby's tent doesn't help him fall into a deep sleep. He's become a light sleeper and stayed as one, on edge even when he's meant to be dreaming about stars and planets as he waits for the expected knife to slide beneath his skin.

It doesn't. It never does. Even in Grounder territory, they seem to respect the fact some people need time to recharge.

Octavia, though, doesn't respect much at all.

Poking him in the cheek, he wakes with Raven's head on his chest and her arm thrown around his torso. Octavia's eyes are on him while his drift down to Raven, lost for a moment as to where they are.

"Bell," Octavia hisses. Her voice remains hushed as she speaks, "Bell. You need to get up."

"What is it?" his voice is louder than he'd like. He clears his throat, realising belatedly it'll rumble through his chest like a warning tremor. There's no earthquake to worry about. He hopes to the gods there isn't. "O —"

"Lexa," she whispers quietly, eyes darting to Raven. She remains asleep, still, like she's frozen or worse. He realises, then, she's hugging him to her. Octavia seems to lower her voice on purpose as she remains squatting beside him. "Lexa wants to talk to you."

"Why?" Bellamy narrows his eyes. "Why the hell would she —"

Octavia raises her fingers to her lips. "Sh," she frowns, glancing toward Raven. "A Grounder's in a good mood. Let's take advantage."

"Why —"

Octavia rolls her eyes, fingers balling into her palm. " _Bell_. Get it together. What's the basic math here?" He frowns at her. "Commander wants to speak to you." Her voice slows on purpose, still sounding sharp with its condescension despite it being hushed, "The Commander you _threatened_ wants to _speak_ to _you_." She taps him on the shoulder, but it feels like a punch. "Get up."

He looks down to Raven, finding himself suddenly alert. His heart thumps in his chest, right near where her cheek is pressed. "Raven —"

"I'll stay here, big brother," she says, sitting on her knees now. "You can trust me." She nods, brows rising, as if to emphasise something he doesn't need her to even repeat ever again in his or her life. "Now, trust _me_ when I tell you to _go._ "

Removing his arm from around Raven's waist, he slowly peels hers from his. It's awkward and difficult. He's never had to do this before, wake and leave while someone's using him as a pillow. He finds himself even reluctant to do so. But with O helping him, ready to distract Raven, or possibly fill her in, he knows he's not leaving her to be prey anymore.

Despite wishing for her to sleep like the dead, Raven's eyes flutter open when he's unsure of how to remove her head from his chest without waking her. Her arm's already pressed against his chest, no longer curling around him so tightly he's not sure if she's become a part of him. "What —"

"I need to go," he says simply. It sounds a little rough to him, the way his voice never wants to remain hushed anymore.

"Oh." Raven's mouth seems to make the shape but she breathes it out, a tiny sound he doesn't even know if he hears or pretends he does. "Okay," she says. She pulls herself up awkwardly, as if her bones are stiff. She wipes at her cheek. "Where —"

"Commander," Octavia fills in for her. Raven's brows begin to crease as she looks at Bellamy, alarm beginning to shape her features. Octavia's lips curve upward as she teases, "I can be your pillow."

And just like that, Octavia becomes a saviour.

Raven takes a moment to look at Bellamy, as if wanting to assess his motivations, the truth behind the easy and blunt statement. He wonders if she wants to warn him, or to demand she comes with him. 

Her eyes flicker to O, but he doesn't look to his sister. It feels like a long pause, a beat of them all being frozen together, before Raven even moves. He finds he can breathe easier, but he isn't so sure as to why.

She gazes at him briefly before she looks to Octavia and smiles. It's only early morning, the sun barely beginning to rise once more, but he feels like it's in this very tent when she does.

"I thought you'd never ask," she says, voice still thick with sleep. She remains as she is, legs splayed out before her, and Bellamy easily comes to stand roughly. His legs are asleep, pins and needles prickling along his muscles, but he walks clumsily from the tent, knowing Octavia may have her attention but her eyes bore into his back until the fabric falls back into place to shield him.

His legs come back to him, full of strength, just as he becomes alert and awake and filled with trepidation that makes his footfalls feel heavier. The Grounders are awake, poking at the fires, clustered around them as they turn their back on him. Only a few of them think to gaze at him, but he doesn't try to decipher the looks they toss his way.

Some of them feel like daggers, sharply digging into his back. The others … It's easier if he doesn't think about it.

Lexa's tent is large, bigger than his had been back at the original camp. It's spacious and the fabric's light, letting the sun infiltrate if she so wishes to. She doesn't sit in the ugly chair they seem to carry everywhere, perhaps able to construct it with ease. He can see it in the corner, a reminder of who it is he's speaking to, but she doesn't think to embrace that person now, that _character_ he sometimes wonders if she only wears as a mask.

She's standing in the middle of the room with a woman he's seen before, only scarcely, though, just like the rest of them. Her hair is dark, but he can see the highlights of red throughout it. She's pretty, even with the charcoal smeared across her dark features.

She gives him an indecipherable look before Lexa thinks to speak in their native tongue. He supposes it's permission to leave, since that's what she does. Her eyes pierce him, as dark as the night sky, but she doesn't brush against his shoulder childishly.

"Being alone with me," he says, surveying the empty tent. It looks so large now, so … useless. It's like she wishes to posture her power with a _tent_. "That seems dangerous."

"Are you dangerous?" she asks him. She stares at him unblinkingly, but he can't decipher her guarded expression. Her voice is as gentle as it is whenever she speaks to Clarke, but he knows she holds no fondness for him.

"I could be."

"But you're not." She takes a step forward, her back straight, but she says nothing else.

Bellamy feels awkward, like the curtains of the tent are going to suffocate him. He'd been scared of it, back when the acid fog had been something none of them understood. He thought he'd die under the red tent they'd carried with them, with Murphy and Jasper. If he's going to die, it's going to be by O's side. It's what he'd sworn when he'd gotten on the drop ship, the very reason he bought a ticket for a one-way trip to his death.

"You wanted to see me," he says, crossing his arms against his chest. He thinks she'll mimic him, but her arms remain hanging by her sides. Her hands remain open, fingers fanned.

She's silent for a moment, simply looking at him. She doesn't let her gaze travel over him, as if sizing him up. She watches his face, and he tries to keep it blank. He wonders if she sees something in it when he swallows, feeling his cheek twitch ever so slightly.

"Why didn't you bring someone with you?" Peering at both his sides, he knows she sees no one flanking them, let alone watching his back. "Why?" she asks, as if repeating the one word he should focus on will get him to answer.

"Why did you tell her to leave?"

Lexa remains quiet, but he watches as her lips quirk upward, like she's won some sort of game. "I trust you not to hurt me."

"That's stupid."

Her voice remains even when she asks, "Are you going to hurt me?"

Bellamy rolls his neck, refusing to answer. "Why am I here?"

"Why are you?"

His voice grows rough, "Do you always answer a question with a question?"

She smiles. "No." She lets her hands cross in front of her, palm of her left over her right as they press against her pelvis. He notices how there's a knife on her belt, but her hands don't reach for it, let alone hover near the scabbard it sits in. "I wanted to ask you a question."

His arms tighten against his chest. "The answer's no."

The quirk to her lips remains. "You didn't let me ask."

"I don't care."

Clarke would bristle. Raven would tilt her head back and stare him in the eye. Octavia … She may just choose to kick him in the shins. But Lexa remains unmovable, like she's stone. It only convinces him she's not even human.

She doesn't seem deterred. "You believed her without question."

"That's what you do." He sounds bemused, looks it with his brows creasing. His hands ball into fists, pressing against his chest. "That's what you do when one of your people is being accused of bullshit."

"She had motive," Lexa says, her voice almost methodical. It's like she's reciting lines or something. He doesn't like it. "She had reason. She has anger in her heart."

His mouth feels tense, teeth clenching together. He tries to calm himself, finding he's riled up by how he can't tell where this conversation is leading. His voice remains too even when he speaks, "And she also has common sense."

"I asked your sister what you would've done with Rhode and Kota." He can hear her voice pick up with a slight slip of emotion, but he can't be sure. "What would _you_ have done if you found your own people betrayed your trust." He simply stares at her, and she continues on, as though she hasn't heard him and she doesn't see him. 

She pauses for a moment, as if giving him a chance to respond. He thinks she's trying to pull herself together.

Her expression, as always, remains unreadable, but her tone is warmer. "She told me to forgive and let them go, that you would do that for them. It was a punishment they didn't deserve, but one they could learn from."

He narrows his eyes, finding his heart almost beating in his throat. His fingers clench once more, tightening until he believes the knuckles are white and threatening to burst from his skin. "Why are you talking to my sister?"

"I couldn't find you," she says. "Why else would I look for the person who knows you best?"

He doesn't answer.

She looks down. It's the one time he thinks he can read her. He doesn't know if she saddened by what she's thinking, or if maybe she doesn't want him to read her expression. "I didn't kill them. Their fight isn't over."

"It's barely begun."

She looks up at him and, for once, to him, she looks older. She takes a step forward and he can see the intricacies of the black smeared along her eyes. He thinks he's looking into a cave, with its sharp interior formations wanting to press against him as a spike. It's nice, even though he has no artistic bone in his body to properly appreciate it. 

"It started a long time ago, Bellamy." Her voice begins to sound practiced once again, like she's reading from a book and doesn't want to let her voice reveal how it ends. It's what Mom used to do, purposefully keep her voice even so he couldn't predict if Heracles lost his fight. "Gustus was like an uncle to Kota. She grew up with him. The acid fog killed her father, the Mountain Men took her brother, and the earth swallowed her mother whole."

"So, she has hate in her heart," he repeats her. He shrugs his shoulders, wanting to brush it far, far away from him. "So what?"

"You want me to see your people as that, don't you?" Her hands remain in front of her, but he can see that her fingers are tightening around her palms. "Why can't you do the same for mine?"

"I did," he says, looking at her hands. Her fingers are long, but he can see how they're cut and scratched and dirtied from some of the blood and mud she's put her hands in over the last few days. "I do." He looks up at her. "It's not good enough. You took Finn away. _Finn._ He has a name, you know."

She bows her head. "I do."

"And you took him away from Raven. Like I said out there, we get it. I do." His hands clench even tighter as he tries to keep himself in one place. He wants to burst, to explode like a bomb, but Bellamy finds there's a missing ingredient inside of him. Or maybe he has it, but doesn't have the heart to set himself off. "But you're not really pulling your end of the weight here. We're hanging over a cliffside and the only people who are carrying the weight of this alliance is _us._ "

It's now she folds her arms against her chest. "What would you like me to do?"

What he wants from Commander Lexa is an explanation. He wants to know why she'd even consulted his sister. He wants to know why she doesn't have a guard in here. He wants to know why she's being so _kind_ to him right now.

But _kind_ doesn't seem appropriate of a descriptor for her. _Tolerant_ is.

She hadn't spared Rhode and Kota out of the goodness of her heart. She hadn't spared them for _him_. He's not the leader she's been smitten with.

"Try." He unfolds his arms, letting them slap against his sides. "Try. Prove yourself. Sleep on our side of the camp."

"Is that all it'll take?" He isn't sure if she's surprised by it, her expression as even as her voice.

"Maybe," he says, looking down at her feet. Sleeping on their side of the camp isn't worth the risk of his people. Sleeping on their side of the camp only proves the Grounders are as obedient as dogs before they catch the scent of an intruder or blood. Sleeping on their side of the camp gives him an opening.

Bellamy doesn't know why he thinks on it, hung-up on what Clarke had refused to let him even consider while they'd been walking to Tondc. He doesn't understand why he even thinks of venturing further into the belly of a completely different beast. 

"Keep my people safe," he says, looking at the ground. It almost passes his lips, his reiteration with a slight altering of _keep her safe._ His words slip from his lips slowly as he begins to weave his own plan. "Ask questions, torture later." He looks up at her. "Or don't torture at all. Forgive and forget, just like we have."

She tilts her head ever so slightly to the side.

"Make us not regret this alliance," he says, like she needs to be reminded. "Show us that we can trust you. Do _something_ to show that you're no longer the enemy."

"What will you do in return?" she asks, like she knows exactly what he's thinking.

"Help you," he says. He looks up at her pointedly. "Trust you and your judgement."

She remains quiet, looking at him. He figures if she doesn't protest she's in agreement to the terms he produces to her now.

"Clarke says you reunited all the clans. Think of us as a clan you need to convince to accept you." He looks at her shoulder, but doesn't see her at all. "Look after my people and my people will look after yours." His eyes flicker to hers. "The very definition of an alliance."

She nods her head. "That sounds feasible."

"It's more than feasible, Lexa. It's going to happen if you prove yourself by doing more than sleeping on our side of the camp." His voice sounds distant to his own ears, but he supposes, when he speaks, something sparks in Lexa for her expression seems to flinch slightly. "It's worth the risk. It's not a weakness to show you care."

He finds himself looking at her, possibly unnerving her with his own stare as it all seems to fall into place with him. This is the very opening he had wished Clarke had given him, the one where she was willing to _listen_ to him rather than push him away.

He'd wished for it to be Clarke, but he knows he now requires a nudge, that he needs Lexa, of all people, to help him get what he wants. The alliance is too slow, almost coming to a halt as it is. And the days are slipping by them, far from their reach and quickly through their hands like water. The longer their people stay in Mount Weather, the quicker they're going to die.

"I'm willing to help you more than you know," he says. She looks at him intently, sizing him up now. But he doesn't continue onward, knowing he's caught her.

He does know he doesn't take orders from Clarke. He does know Clarke no longer looks to him when she gets that spark in her eye the very moment she's figured out a plan. She runs to Lexa. She gets her helpful suggestions and nudges from Lexa.

But Clarke's plans have lead them nowhere, her decisions guiding them to a stalemate that has the Commander almost humouring him as though she wants to see how far she can push him before her people strike out once more. He feels like this entire conversation is a test. He wonders if she really did spare them, Kota and Rhode, two people he had been perfectly content to look at as though they weren't even people at all.

He's no one to her, but he thinks, right now, in this every moment, he's transforming himself into the very saviour her people need.

There's one person she looks at as a person, and it sure as hell isn't anyone who's been mentioned by name thus far.

If Lexa's taking advantage of him, Bellamy thinks it's only fair he returns the favour.

His love for his sister, his love for his people, his desire to protect Raven — he can see that she's seen it, that she's even understood it. He knows she's exploiting it right now.

And so he figures he might as well do it right back to her, poking an open wound Clarke has left in her side.

He looks up at her, arms folding against his chest once more. "I'm going to need you to do something for me," he says. Lexa arches her brow, and he thinks that's enough of a _go on_. "I need you to convince Clarke of something."


	8. don't go home without me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _don't fly too close to the sun._ or the one where raven looks out for bellamy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we are, the end! as i said before, this goes right back into 2.10, as this fic was written to fill in the gaps of people not really reacting to raven's torture at the hands of the grounders and no one really reacting to bellamy going into the belly of the beast.
> 
> thanks so much for reading and commenting, and thank you _very_ much to those of you who have been with me while i've been writing this. without your encouragement, this would've just stayed as a one-shot! as always, this is unbeta'd and thus all the lovely mistakes that you find are mine. ♥

At this point in his life, Bellamy isn't sure what to expect anymore.

He doesn't expect Raven to ask for a story by their little campfire. With Lincoln and Octavia sitting beside them, he tells her the story of Icarus. Octavia jumps in with her own anecdotes, both true to the story and a tangent on reminiscing about Mom.

He doesn't expect Clarke to pick a side at all. She doesn't set up her blanket on the Grounder side of camp, but on their own.

He doesn't expect the Grounders to take it so lightly that he'd spoken disrespectfully to their leader, but they don't even bat an eyelash, let alone glare at him from across the invisible divide.

He doesn't expect Lexa and a few of her own people to sleep on their side of camp. What he does presume, though, is Clarke will sleep near the Commander — and she does.

He doesn't expect Clarke to become the one person he can no longer predict. Unlike everything else that's happened over the last few days, he should've seen it coming. She's been slipping further and further away from herself, and the moment she approaches him, pulling the four of them away from their fire, he knows the solemn expression on her face is what he should've expected from her.

Her words are an echo, a contradicting parroting of what she'd told him earlier. "It's worth the risk," she says quietly, but Bellamy hears it echo so loudly around him it shakes the earth.

Octavia's stare is hotter than the sun itself. It makes him feel like he's Icarus.

Raven may say "Let me show you what to look for", but all Bellamy can hear is _Let me show you what to look out for._ He knows she isn't warning him of anything that can be found inside Mount Weather. She may walk without a pinch to her expression, her face a blank mask, but her steps are hard. He thinks she's putting too much weight on her bum leg, but he doesn't reach out to slow her down as she leads him a little ways away from the main camp.

It's where they're sleeping, near the outskirts of where the woods properly begin. It's where he prefers to sleep now, a little closer to the darkness, able to hear any snapping of twigs or crunching of leaves. Someone needs to sit at this post, and he knows Jasper Jordan and Monty Green would've opted for it if they were here.

She drops down onto the ground, refusing to pull at her blanket, as she digs through her own bag. He's not sure what she's looking for, and he isn't so certain if she does, either.

After he sits down next to her, she frowns. "Why are you doing this?" Her voice is sharp, even if it's purposefully quiet. Neither of them want their conversation to echo within the camp. She doesn't look at him. 

He watches her instead of her fingers pushing items and crap around in her bag. "You won't find Jasper and Monty in your bag."

She mutters, "Pain in the ass." She digs through her bag once more, rifling through it, moving things around with a fierce sweep of her hand. "It's not worth the risk."

"Lincoln knows a way in."

She looks quickly up at him, eyes narrowed into a stare. Her voice has a bite to it he's all too familiar with. "Then send Lincoln."

"They know him." He doubts those in Mount Weather would really forget the face of a Grounder they'd turned. Maybe they all look the same to them, experiments in human form. It's not a risk he wants to take. Throwing Lincoln into the lion's den had almost destroyed Octavia.

Raven clenches her jaw. "And if you get shoved into that project that turned him into a Reaper?"

Lifting a shoulder, his voice remains calm, detached, "It's a risk I have to take."

Raven's lip curls upward before she ducks her head to peer closely inside her bag. "It's not one I want to take."

Bellamy sighs, feeling the weight of her own arguments stack against his back. They're in the form of meteorites, the rocks that have crashed to space like they have in their respective pods. He doesn't know how to shift them, but he can feel himself burning under the weight of it. "The best chance we have at saving our people is if we infiltrate Mount Weather. Everything else has worked against us, Raven."

She keeps her gaze hard on her bag, her voice tight and sharp, "There's a better way."

"It's me going inside." He looks at her cheek, willing and not willing her to look up at him. Bellamy doesn't know what he wants. He expected that of himself. "Lincoln knows a way in. I'll pretend to be a Grounder —"

He knows her eyes have moved from her bag to stare hard at the ground. "And get turned into some killing machine that _eats people_."

"You don't know that —"

"I know that it's a risk _none_ of us should be willing to take." She looks up at him, her eyes glistening. "How many more people do we need to lose before the princess realises she's not the best decision maker when her head's so far up Commander Bitch's ass?"

His voice is quiet, "It was my choice."

She shrugs her shoulder, looking at him as though what she says is the easiest resolution in the world. "Then remove your head from her ass, too."

"Raven," he says, sounding slightly exasperated. He feels amused by her antics, but he doesn't want to laugh. It's endearing at best and worrisome at its worst, knowing that maybe leaving the camp will be a mistake he comes to regret making.

She doesn't look at him. The darkness of the night tries to swallow her whole. Her voice sounds tiny, "I'm not losing another person I give a damn about. I'm running out of them way too fast for my liking."

"You're not going to lose me," he says. He feels a hand clutch at his chest, inside of it. "I'll get to a radio. We'll talk."

She refuses to look at him. Her voice cracks, "And then I get to hear you get killed. Great."

"So little faith in me, Zero G," he says, shaking his head. He wants to laugh, but it only comes out really small. He wants to lighten the mood, to repair what she's purposefully dismantled, but without her helping him place all the gadgets and wires back in their rightful place, he stumbles. 

He ducks his head to try and catch her gaze, but she stubbornly and childishly tilts her head away from him to look at the darkness of the woods surrounding them. "I believe in you," he says. "I wasn't lying when I said you were smart. I'm not going to be alone if I get to a radio and you're on the other side."

"If," she says, whipping her head around. " _If_ you get to a radio. Doesn't inspire confidence, shooter."

He thinks to point out she lacks so much in him, but Bellamy knows it isn't true. As much as he wants to act out, embodying his own fears and anxieties when it comes to walking into the lion's den, he finds he doesn't want to take it out on Raven. Instead, he tries to think of the best way to fix this. 

"I'm going to get a radio. I'm going to find the right station. And I'm going to get our people out." He doesn't sound confident, but his voice is louder than it is before, and that's all that counts to him.

"And you're going to live," she says. It sounds like she's trying to convince herself, or maybe she's trying to instill confidence within him. He's not so sure. But it works, for him, anyway. To have her look at him with such a hard determination in her eyes, as if she's telling the stars that they're to grant her wish rather than simply mull it over, it makes him feel more confident, even if he thinks to bury his feet in the ground and refuse to move. "And not eat people."

His lips quirk up. "Kind of not on my to-do list, Raven."

"Good." She nods, as if that's final, as if, maybe, he's changed his mind. He doesn't know what she's thinking right now. She looks down into her bag, as if she's still trying to search for that little tool or weapon or _something_ that will somehow assist him in freeing their people. He thinks it to be a distraction, keeping her hands busy has always been Raven's way of coping.

She stops rummaging through her bag. "When do you leave?"

"Tonight," he says. Then he thinks to amend, "The sooner the better. Our people have been stuck in that damn mountain for way too long."

Raven remains quiet for a moment. 

He reaches out to touch her arm. She looks down at it, like she's startled by the weight against her upper arm. Her brows knit, but he tries to not think too much on it. "I spoke to Lexa," he says. "Commander Bitch. We made a deal."

She looks up at him, her brows furrowing, her voice beginning to grow its hardness once more. "What kind of deal?"

"You're going to be okay," he says. Her brows pinch in bewilderment as he watches her assess his expression, as if a twitch of his eye or a curve to his lips can tell her everything she wants to know. "I told her I'd help her from the inside. Anya was her friend, and she was inside the mountain, too. I told her I'd help her people if she helped mine."

"By what?" she narrows her eyes, trying to discern which wire it is she needs to cut to maybe make him stop talking. "Not torturing our people without a second thought?"

"The Grounders won't be thinking twice about trying to hurt you," he says. "It's not going to happen again."

She stares at him and he wonders if he has grown two extra heads. He's Cerberus, guarding Hades — or maybe it's Persephone. "You signed your life away to trust the Grounders."

"No." His own brows furrow now. His hand on her arm tightens, hoping for her to _understand_ that sometimes such unbalanced deals need to be made. "I asked her for her to meet us halfway. They may not want to sleep on our side of the camp, but they're not going to sit around expecting us to do all the legwork, either."

Her eyes narrow as she looks at him. He knows she's trying to search for an answer, maybe a faulty wire she can remove to fix him. If she can locate that, then she can stop him.

It's how he thinks her mind works, anyway. He's a gadget that she can make better or save from finding himself in the hands of those who will only mistreat him.

"You really see them as the privileged, don't you?"

He looks away from her, brows furrowing. It's a throwback to how he used to think, dividing the camp on purpose to pit them against one another to ensure he could outwit the Ark. He doesn't like the reminder of the person he used to be. But it's the foundation she has, what he thinks she only knows about him. He's the guy with a chip on his unprivileged shoulder. 

He looks back at her. "You're to tell me if she goes back on her end of the deal," he says. "If anything happens — I'm not saving them."

She arches her brow. "Bellamy …"

He sighs. "Indra said it herself, Raven. Lincoln's one of us now. They gave up on him when O didn't. When _we_ didn't." It has to count for something, even though Bellamy's scared of Lincoln retreating back into the mindset of a Reaper. They never should've been able to bring him back from the brink of his own insanity, but they had. The Grounders give up as soon as there's the tiniest scent of the impossible. "They're not sending one of their own in to help. Lexa knows if they're to win this war, they need an inside man, and if I'm that insider, she's going to have to keep her end of the deal."

Raven's voice sounds a little distant, like she's working on some problem he'll never understand. "Because she knows how much Clarke cares about you."

Bellamy's not so sure about that anymore.

He looks at her pointedly. "I told her I'd know."

"Because you think they'll come after me if you leave," she says, voice quiet. It's like she's taken all the parts of the various pieces of equipment they've collected over the last few weeks and is trying to build something bigger and better. Bellamy's not so sure if she's going to be successful, but with his hands clumsily trying to create a weapon, he can see her own mind beginning to spin with the ways to fix what he's attempted to build. 

He doesn't confirm or deny her own statement. He thinks it to be evident enough without him having to waste his breath to tell her that that had been the incentive behind him approaching Lexa. But he thinks maybe he should've, given he doesn't want to answer her next question. 

"Were you going to go if she said no?"

Bellamy thinks not to answer. He even looks away, as if the night can pull him into its arms to remove him from where he sits. He can feel her right against him, her side almost brushing against his own, and he begins to wonder when they'd stopped sitting so far apart from one another. 

His own answer is quiet, but firm, "No."

"But you are now."

"Yes," he looks down at the ground. It's cold, even though the fire wraps around him like a blanket. "She gave me her word. I'm going to test it."

 "You're going to test the alliance," Raven says, voice deceivingly quiet. It's like she understands him, his way of thinking, his own need to throw himself to the wolves. It'd been _his_ people he had killed on the Ark. They'd culled _his_ people for the oxygen they didn't need to sacrifice a human life for if he hadn't been so stupid.

There'd been no alliance then, not one between Grounder and Sky Person. But there had been one on the ground, between all of them. The moment he seemed to show remorse, Clarke had softened while Raven grew angrier.

He should expect it now, but he doesn't.

"You're going to test the alliance," she says, voice pitching higher, "with your _life_." She punches him hard in the arm. 

He flinches, but he doesn't lift his hand to cradle his upper arm. "I am."

" _Idiot_ ," she hisses at him. "Go float yourself, Bellamy. Test the alliance with one of your stories. Test it with one of your inspirational speeches. _Don't_ test it with your life!"

He looks up at her, brows knitting together. "We need to get Jasper and Monty out of there. We need to get Harper and Miller and Fox —"

"There's another way," she says, voice lacking any emotion. "There's always another way."

"We're running out of time, Raven." It's as simple as that, he thinks. The longer they stall, the more out of touch they'll become with Mount Weather. He knows they'll start to fight with each other rather than working together as one powerful guard.

It's how this always works. Heracles had promised to hold the sky for Atlas if he helped him find a golden apple, but it'd all been a trick to see his Labour completed. And he knows that the golden apple has a time limit on it, that it'll become harder to snatch, with Ladon growing fiercer and stronger on the fact that no one's come for the apples in weeks.

He thinks to open his mouth to tell her this, confusing her beyond belief with his own stories, but he feels a kick to his shin and sees Octavia fuming above him.

"You're not going." She folds her arms against her chest. Her hair's a mess and she's breathing so heavily. "You're not going."

 Raven remains quiet, peering up at her. 

Bellamy pulls himself to his feet to feel Octavia shove at his shoulders. "It's not worth the risk," she breathes out. Her arms release themselves from their cage against her chest and her hands curl into fists. Her voice grows so loud it echoes, "You're not worth _any_ risk!"

He opens his mouth, but closes it when she punches him hard on the shoulder. Her fists follow, pummeling his chest. She's less of the warrior she's trying to form herself into being and more of the little girl he remembers from the Ark, scared and lost beneath the floorboards.

Bellamy reaches out to wrap his fingers around her wrists. Once he does, she folds into him.

"I promised nothing would happen to you," she sobs. Bellamy lets go of her hands, feeling her palms press hard against his chest before she grips at his jacket. His arms wrap around her. "How am I supposed to keep my promise —"

"O …"

He hears Raven stand, the leaves shifting beneath her feet. It takes more energy to pull herself up now. But he hears her when Octavia's approach had been quiet, as stealthy as the warrior he knows her to be.

"Nothing will happen to him," Raven says, voice quiet. He looks over to her and notices how her eyes seem wet. He knows his are. Octavia's arms wrap around him tightly, hands smacking against his back. 

Raven lifts her eyes to him. "I'll be making sure of it."

Octavia doesn't acknowledge her, but he thinks she does with how she becomes louder, pressing her cheek against his jacket as her hold on him becomes tighter.

"We're going to raze Mount Olympus," Raven says. Bellamy looks at her with bemusement, a slight quirk to his lips as he finds himself puzzled by her even knowing of the Greek gods' own throne room. She shrugs her shoulder, looking at Octavia. "She likes to tell me stories, too."

Bellamy doesn't say anything, but he knows nothing needs to be said. Raven turns on her feet and walks away, only a small distance from them. Octavia's hold remains tight around him, just as his arms refuse to drop from her. 

He doesn't know how long they stand like that. He doesn't look up to notice any Grounders or Clarke or Raven in the distance. He doesn't concern himself with the goings-on in camp.

When she quietens, Bellamy bows his head to press a kiss to the top of hers.

Her voice is mumbled against his jacket. "Don't fly too close to the sun." She looks up at him, releasing one arm to wipe hard at her eyes. "Promise me."

"I promise."

Octavia stands taller, despite her other arm being wrapped around him. Her fingers tighten around the back of his jacket. She tilts her head up, inserting steel into her voice, "I'll come in after you if you do."

Bellamy's smile is small. "I know."

"I want you to check in every minute."

His smile widens as he looks down at her. "O …"

" _Every_ minute," she says, peering up at him. "This is a stupid plan, so you're going to follow _my_ stupid plan, too." She sniffs before she looks up at him sharply. She bites, "Got it?"

He nods, "I do."

"You're not leaving without saying goodbye," she says. This isn't the goodbye she wants, even though Bellamy thinks it'd be easier if he snuck out of camp in the next few hours with Lincoln. It's the plan. Say goodbye, head out, pray to the gods they don't die.

"I won't," he breathes out.

"Listen to Raven," she says. She looks down at his jacket. "If you get hurt, I want to know. Mountain Men aren't allowed to hurt my big brother. No one's allowed to hurt you but me."

He looks down at her, amused. "Is that a rule now?"

"Yes," she says. She looks off to the side and smiles, even though he thinks it to be wet.

"It's a good one," Raven says. She stands to the side of them, hands by her hips. She looks slightly out of place, but she always has in a group of delinquents who don't know what their own hands are capable of.

Octavia wipes at her face with the back of her hand. She pulls away from him, but curls her hand into a fist and punches him lightly in the chest. "Don't be stupid," she says, voice firm.

"I won't," he says, nodding. He notes the hesitation in her steps. She doesn't want to leave, just as he doesn't wish for her to, either. But Raven stands to the side and he knows he needs her to talk sense into him. "Go see Lincoln."

Octavia nods. She doesn't turn on her foot and walk away, insisting to walk backwards a few steps before she does turn her back on him hesitantly.

Raven waits until Octavia's with Lincoln at the very edge of the woods. He watches as his sister flings her arms around him, too, before he looks to Raven.

She takes a step closer to him, voice low. "When are you leaving?" He's told her before, but he knows she must wonder if his plan has changed. Octavia has the power to alter Bellamy's plans, and although he wishes to postpone this, he knows they need to infiltrate the mountain as soon as they can.

His answer doesn't change, even though he thinks the urgency to leave has.

"As soon as Lincoln's free," he says, sparing a glance to his sister hugging him. He looks to Raven once more. "I'm getting Grounder gear."

"Lexa," she says, as if understanding. He doesn't know if she approves. He doesn't want to care if she does. "You're not saying goodbye, are you?"

"Dressing up and leaving as soon as we can," he says. He looks down at her hands. "It's easier."

"Harder," she corrects. "This is easy for no one."

He doesn't answer, instead choosing to lift his gaze back to her.

"I have a bad feeling about this," she says. "You don't know the mountain. None of us do. We hardly know who we're fighting."

"They're inside the mountain and they have our people. That's who."

She shakes her head. "It's not that simple, shooter. We're going in blind."

"I know."

"We're both going to be blind."

"I know," he says a little heatedly. He looks away from her, rolling his shoulders. He remains quiet for a moment, refusing to meet her gaze as she looks at him. He wonders if she thinks of him within this moment as some sort of radio to dismantle, or a bomb to make, counting down the seconds until he explodes.

He doesn't explode in fire and smoke, but he does with a quiet admission. "I'm scared."

"We all are, shooter," she says. Her feet shuffle against the ground as she comes to stand closer. "You're a lousy shot," she says. He can tell she's trying to inject amusement into her voice, but even to his ears, it sounds like a poor attempt. "Don't be a lousy one in there."

He looks down at her with a slight quirk to his lips. "Any other great ideas, genius?"

Raven purses her lips, considering. He rolls his eyes, shaking his head. Give Raven Reyes an inch and she builds a damn pod out of it.

Her eyes return to him. With a slight arch of her brow, she lifts her shoulders, as if she's pretending she's not trying to tell him how to survive what both of them don't know how to navigate. But he asks her for her red string. She's doing her best to untangle it from the knots they've let it tie into.

"Don't throw the radio away," she says. "And don't drop it into any rivers, either. We need it, shooter."

"I doubt there's a river in the mountain," he says.

She shrugs her shoulders. "We need to be on guard for everything. You need to remember that."

He raises his brows in an attempt to say _go on._ He can feel the nerves coil around his entire body, but the more she talks, the less focused he is on them. He wishes he could take a radio with him along this walk to have her speak nonsense to him for the entire journey.

"Grunt like a Grounder," she says. He watches how her face brightens up the moment she smiles. "But don't smell like one. Remember to smear dirt on your face, they like that a lot."

He smiles down at her. "Any other useless advice you want to give me?"

She slaps him on the shoulder without missing a beat. She may smile, but her voice sounds slightly tense to him, "Don't die."

He nods. "I'll do my best."

"And the moment you get a radio, you call me." She hits him on the arm again, as though the bite to her tone and the sharpness of her own orders isn't enough. "I'll be checking every damn channel I can."

He nods, saying nothing else. 

She steps into him. He remains where he is, standing still. Once he realises there's not much space between them, he doesn't feel the urge to step back. He's a pillar, or maybe she is, refusing to let the other fall with how closely they stand together. 

She presses her lips together and looks at his shoulder. He wonders if she feels the urge to lift her hand to brush dirt from it. It's what Clarke would've done. But Raven Reyes isn't her.

She looks back up at him and remains silent for a few moments, her eyes never leaving his. Her voice is quiet. "You're going to be okay."

He nods again, but lets his gaze drop. Fear is a demon that needs to be slain. Fear is death. But he fears death, and so he wonders if they're two interchangeable beings within this moment. 

He thinks of Aurora, wondering what kind of advice she'd give him now. 

But he finds Raven's belief in him to only calm his nerves for a brief moment before they burn beneath his skin once more. He wants to believe her so desperately, but he sometimes wonders if Mom had been lying when she said he was going to be okay without her, too.

He thinks to say something, but he finds he lacks the words. He's still afraid. He's still gripped by the demon that hasn't let him go, but has, instead, burrowed beneath his skin ever since Mom died. 

He looks up at her and says, "I'm trying to convince myself of that."

She smiles, it slightly force, weaker in its beam than before. _Don't fly too close to the sun_ , Octavia had said, but Bellamy thinks he already has.  
 Raven looks down at the ground, her face pinching. She does a poor job of hiding her expression, even when she looks up at him. She leans up on the tips of her toes, hands reaching up toward him. He remains still, forgoing to breathe, as he feels her hands brush lightly against his cheeks.

Her fingers curve around his neck. Leaning toward him, she slopes her mouth against his. At first, it feels light, her lips merely pressing against his own, but then she leans against him, harder than before. Her fingers remain around his neck, as if wanting to keep him in place. 

There's no need for it, though.

Bellamy pushes back against her, opening his mouth beneath hers as his hands reach up to clutch at the back of her jacket.

He thinks he can feel her smile, but then he wonders if that's the curve of his mouth.

She pulls away from him, head bowed slightly. She tilts her chin up and presses her temple to his. It lasts for a brief moment, but he finds it grounding, regardless of how long it may last.

She takes a step back, but her hands slide to the lapels of his jacket. Her fingers clutch at it, knuckles almost white. She looks at his neck while he watches her, wondering when her gaze will meet his.

"Did that help?" she cocks her head as she peers up at him. Her voice lacks any cockiness to it, any humour as she takes them back to that night in his tent. She peers up at him with a slight quirk to her lips, a shyness to her own touch.

Bellamy purses his lips together, as if he really needs to mull his answer over. Like she had in what feels like an age ago, she'd known her answer immediately. He finds he does, too.

Lowering his head, it's as though it's just the two of them, the last survivors of the world standing together. Her hands don't drop from his jacket as his remain curved around her waist.

With a quirk to his lips, he shifts his gaze to hers. "I'll let you know when I get back."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all i wanted to achieve with this was to bridge the gap between 2.09 and 2.10 by inserting some of the emotion i think the episodes were missing back into the story. 2.09 was one of my favourite episiodes of season two because of what _wasn't_ the focus. bellamy and raven. octavia and raven. bellamy and octavia showing that aurora blake instilled such great qualities and lessons into them that they refused to back an alliance instead of backing their own friend.
> 
> i wanted to explore how the grounders and sky people came to trust one another. as i was watching 2.09, i didn't understand why the sky people never demanded _more_ from the grounders. they were making every effort they could think of to make this alliance work, but all we really saw was a focus on lexa and clarke. the grounders are people, too. we've established this by lincoln's own arc. and their betrayal, their need to look out for their own people -- i wanted to remind myself that they're not the enemies, not really. it's human nature to plan and plot and try and look after your own people the best way you know how.
> 
> the very reason why i even wrote the first part was because i wanted someone to acknowledge raven's own hurt. raven was tortured and she was grieving, and it was brushed very much under the carpet in favour of clarke. i wanted to show how raven let the person who loved her in a way that no longer was satisfying for her go. i wanted to also show how that person who loved her in the way she wanted to be loved was the very person who never hesitated to have her back.
> 
> i wanted to explore how bellamy was okay to sacrifice himself after the events of the feast at tondc. we all know he's a hero who wants to save the world, but his people were in danger, and he hadn't been privy to any conversations between clarke and lexa. he hadn't been guaranteed his people's safety. bellamy wasn't given the chance to be the leader he was back at the original camp, and so, i thought about giving him that opportunity.
> 
> most importantly, i wanted to try and show some of the character choices i disagreed with in a fair light, and i hope i portrayed clarke in a manner that isn't so anti her!
> 
> this is very much raven's story as it is bellamy's. it's evident how bellamy came to support raven, but i like to think raven supporting bellamy is very subtle in every interaction that was written.
> 
> i just wanted to say thank you very much for everyone being so encouraging, on this archive and on tumblr, because without you guys, i never would've thought to continue this. i hope this was an enjoyable ride (and read!) for you and that it may have filled in any gaps for you, too! hopefully i will be back with a post-s2 braven that i've been mulling over for a few weeks now. you guys can't get rid of me! ♥
> 
> with this completed, hopefully [the mix](http://8tracks.com/buries/crumbling) makes slightly more sense.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] our house is crumbling under me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4681220) by [growlery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/growlery/pseuds/growlery)




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